


Mind Over Matter (You Under Me)

by youreyesonlarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Louis, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Hockey Player Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson Has a Small Cock, M/M, Major Character Injury, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Personal Assistant Louis Tomlinson, Pining, Rimming, Shy Louis Tomlinson, Size Difference, Top Harry, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 73,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27511897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youreyesonlarry/pseuds/youreyesonlarry
Summary: It’s dark outside when Harry finishes practice for the day.--------Prompt 21: Harry stopped playing hockey (after 10 years of a professional career) because of a severe injury. The dream he worked so hard for vanished in the blink of an eye. His family insisted that he had to go to physical therapy, even if it only helped his health. Cue to personal assistant Louis, the most efficient and kind PA one could hire
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 64
Kudos: 447
Collections: Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2020





	Mind Over Matter (You Under Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey queens!!! First of all, I'd like to thank the amazing mods of this fest for being so incredible and so patient with me! This truly is the best fest ever and I'm very appreciative of all the hard work that goes into it! 
> 
> Also want to give a HUGE shoutout to my amazing beta, [Sam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildholly/pseuds/wildholly)"" , for helping me out with everything and more! She's been helping me ever since the first blff and I couldn't do this one without her! 
> 
> Special thanks to all my beautiful queens who have showed nothing but support to me and other fellow participants of the fest! You queens are the best! 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this big baby and don't forget to drop some kudos and a comment if u do <3 Happy readings!! :)

It’s dark outside when Harry finishes practice for the day. 

His legs feel heavy as he leaves the rink, weighing him down after the long day of practice as he drags himself outside to the parking lot. He’s tired, exhausted even, and with every step, there’s a dull ache creeping in his bones. It’s only there because of Harry’s own need to push himself harder, but he ignores it, like he usually does, bearing through the discomfort, since the pain is all part of what it takes to be a professional Ice Hockey Player.

Harry’s conscious of his body’s limits, is the thing. His long years of playing ice hockey - starting when he was only five years old - showed him exactly what it takes for him to give out and reach his limits. With trial, error and a lot of blood, sweat and tears in between, Harry’s learnt when to be done for the day, before he’s got cramps all over his body and becomes so exhausted to the point where he can’t even move a finger. 

With this being said, the start of the season was coming up, and it was becoming very easy to suddenly ignore a leg that started to tense up, or a shoulder that spasms whenever Harry hit the puck a little too hard.

There’s a lot of pressure on Harry’s shoulders right now, and even if he tries to not let it all get to him, it’s inevitable when there’s so much weight to uphold. Harry just can’t settle for being just _good_ , it’s not good enough for him, nor is it realistic if he wants his team to win game after game, like they usually do. He certainly didn’t gain his reputation over being just _barely_ good enough to pass, that’s for sure. 

It took a lot of strength and hard work to get where he is right now - long days and even longer nights, with chipped teeth included - but there’s not a moment in time where Harry regrets it, even if he gets bruised and beat at the end of the day.

After all, that’s all part of being an ice hockey player.

The parking lot is empty as Harry heads out - save for the lonely security guards’ cars - as well as the practice rink. It’s not surprising at all, considering it’s well past midnight and all his teammates have long gone home for the day, as well as their coach and the occasional manager lurking around. He’s technically not even supposed to be here this late, but he’s got enough charm to pull some strings and stay as long as he wants, and he definitely takes advantage of that.

But just as often as Harry stays back, he gets voiced concerns about his tendency to stay past regular hours, all coming from his coach, to his teammates, and anyone who has a say in his career. 

Though Harry doesn’t always ask for it, those people feel the need to constantly reassure Harry that he’s doing fine, if not too much. The extra hours on the rink and at the gym could end up making him overwork himself and result in a major injury, but Harry isn’t too concerned. 

For one, he’s not an idiot. 

Despite spending most of time at the rink and at the gym, Harry’s got it figured out. Over the past few years, he’d come up with a routine that compromises time spent working out, with time spent resting up in order to avoid overworking his body to a pulp, yet still giving himself enough room to practice as much as he wants. He might get a few eyerolls whenever he goes on rants and tangents to explain his methods, but it’s the closest thing to a happy medium that he can get, whether they like it or not. 

And it’s not like Harry can really help himself. Even as a kid, he couldn’t stay still for more than a couple of seconds, and it followed him to his current age, where he’d much rather run an entire marathon than to sit around and not do much at all, when he could’ve been using his time to practice. 

So, things like leaving the rink a few hours later, or doing some extra sit ups at home, are the norm for Harry now, and necessary measures to keep up with all the new players and old school pro’s. Harry’s usually always the last one out, it’s been this way for years, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It wouldn’t be like this forever, though. With the new season coming up, he would have less time to prepare and more time to get his head in the game. His personal assistants usually saw that Harry had enough time to plan out a well-rounded day full of meals and practice time, along with meetings, if he had them. In fact, his days were planned out pretty much until the end of the year. Harry could even sometimes bribe his personal assistants into letting him practice for extra hours. It had worked out fine, so far, and-

 _Oh_. 

His _ex-personal assistant,_ more like. 

Is that even a thing?

Harry shakes that thought away, hiking up his equipment bag higher on his shoulder as he finally reaches his car, unlocks it and smoothly opens the trunk. With a grunt, Harry throws in his heavy gym bag, filled to the brim with his practice gear and dirty gym clothes. It’s already so heavy by itself, but today's practice left him with a sore upper back as well, so it takes him a little more effort into it than usual. 

He makes a mental note to head straight into a hot shower as soon as he gets home. It does wonders after a full workout to alleviate any sore muscles he’s got, and it’s exactly what Harry needs right now. 

He’s also unpleasantly reminded to give his equipment a much needed wash. His bag stinks with sweat and socks he’s left there for too long, and he’s got to _at least_ put everything in the laundry room before going to bed. His dirty socks are a thread away from becoming an actual health hazard and he doesn’t want to see if it actually ends up happening or not. 

Harry closes the trunk with a thud, walking around to get into his car. He sits back against the seat as he gets inside, letting out a long, drained breath. He allows his eyes to fall shut for a minute until he finds himself snoring himself awake. 

He snaps himself out of it before he’s too far gone. It’s way too late to be out here right now and he’d much rather pass out in bed. It’s a lot more comfortable, too. 

Shaking his head, Harry plugs his phone in and opens up a playlist he specifically made to keep himself awake when he’s driving. He turns the engine on before a Britney song starts playing and his fingers tap against the wheel as he leaves the parking lot as she starts her second verse. 

The commute isn’t too long and Harry knows the streets will be practically empty by now, save for the occasional car here and there, so it’s an easy drive back home. He’s not really in a rush, despite wanting nothing more than to sit back against his couch and finally get some food in his stomach. He’s too tired to speed his way home, but awake enough to still be able to drive safely. 

It’s no secret that Harry prefers to drive himself around. He’s always been a pretty good and responsible driver, and since he’s away for the most part of the year, he likes to drive himself around as often as he can. It gets pretty rowdy with his teammates sometimes, so it’s good to soak up some quiet time after a busy day while he can. 

Harry’s fingers grip the steering wheel as he signals and takes his exit on the highway. He catches all green lights as his Range Rover glides easily down the street, where there seems to be little signs of life.

There’s hardly anyone on the road at this time, so it doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes for Harry to reach his house. It’s modern looking from the outside and much too big for just one person living there inside, but he makes up for it by having friends and family over as often as he cans, on the rare occasion of him not being too busy. His career does end up taking a lot of his time, but he makes it work. 

Right now, Harry barely even has any time to sit down and breathe, so lately, most of his nights consist of coming back to an empty, quiet house - especially since he’s been out of a personal assistant for about a week now.

It’s maybe a little bit sad, how Harry’s literally on the top players of the entire league and has yet to find someone to share his house with, someone that isn’t just a friend who crashes here long enough to feel like he’s got a roommate, but someone he can actually share his bed with and to liven up the place a little. Or a lot.

Harry shudders in his seat. Even the prospect of thinking about his failed love life is enough to get a full body cringe out of him.

Unlike his career, Harry’s love life hasn’t been as successful. Riddled with meaningless fucks and very obvious gold diggers, he can’t remember the last time he actually had a real relationship, one that wasn’t centered around his dick and his money.

He’s had a few girlfriends here and there during high school, but nothing that lasted longer than six months (if he was lucky enough) or could amount to a proper heartbreak. After that, it’s all been a blur of holes and walks of shame. 

It’s even more pathetic how he’s gotten used to it all, to the point where he’d rather shut it all out and solely focus on his career. It’s not the worst thing in the world since it’s worked out for him on the long run, without any huge outside distractions to get his mind off the game, but Harry sees his teammates, sees their own families watching their games and supporting them in the stands, and Harry’s man enough to admit he’d like that someday. 

He closes the front door behind him before slipping his trainers off, pushing them together with his foot to keep them tidy and to avoid tripping over them. It’s happened before and as much as it was embarrassing for a hot minute, at least he can laugh about it now. He definitely doesn’t want a re-make of it, though.

Harry goes straight to the laundry room, dropping his dirty clothes in the basket for later before heading to a much needed shower. He stinks almost as much as his clothes do, and the strain on his back hadn’t lessened on the drive back home, not as if he expected it to.

He trudges over to his ensuite bathroom and strips down as the shower heats up, throwing his clothes in the hamper before stepping inside when the waters warm enough. He washes himself quickly, cleaning up all the sweat built up from practice before dropping his shoulders and allowing the scorching hot water to help his tensed up body relax. 

It works, like it always does and Harry’s feeling a million times better by the time he shuts the water off and loosely wraps the towel around his hips. 

His stomach grumbles as he dries himself off and he’s torn between the leftover pizza or the protein diet he should really be on. A cheat day wouldn’t kill him, since he’s been religiously sticking to it ever since the diet plan came up. Plus, he’s tired as hell and for once not really in the mood to cook something up, so he goes with the first option. It’s a no brainer, honestly. 

After drying down and slipping on a pair of gym shorts that seem clean enough, Harry heads down to his kitchen and heats up what was left of last night’s pizza. He grabs himself a beer and leans against the counter as he waits for his food to heat up. When it's done, he nearly burns his fingers when he takes tonight's dinner out of the microwave, but he manages to save himself in time and lets it cool off before making a grab for it.

With a beer in one hand and his plate on the other, he heads over to the couch to eat and check out what's on TV. He leaves the channel on a reality TV show, a Canadian version of 90 day fiancé he vaguely keeps up on, and chunks down his remaining slices of pizza as yet another couple fights about God knows what. Green cards, probably, or maybe two families who don’t get along. The norm. 

When he’s finished, he sets the crumb filled plate on his coffee table and picks his phone up, sipping mindlessly on his beer as he checks up on his rival teams scores, specifically each player's points. He does this quite often, as his way to check on who’s gotten better, who’s gotten worse and how good are the newbies this time around. If they made it to the season, they must be good, at least good enough to pass, but Harry’s wise enough not to take anything for granted and to always expect the unexpected. He’s been wrong about some player a few times already, and it’s always best to be prepared for anything. 

As he scrolls, stopping a few times to thoroughly check on their points, Harry’s quick to realize he’s got some tough competition this season. It’s always tough, to be honest, but it seems like the other teams had a good run this past year. Some players have drastically improved from what he remembers, and he makes a note to be on the lookout for them later on in their match. 

Getting to know how the other players are doing is half the game played and after circa ten years playing professionally, he can confidently say he’s seen it all. 

His thumb keeps moving, swiping up as he faintly listens to the reality show playing in the background. Another argument fills up the room, and Harry’s eyes drift to his TV to check on what was happening. He barely gets the chance to figure what the main issue was when his phone vibrates on his hand, and he looks back down to a text from his manager.

_“Found another PA. He’ll be there soon. Get some rest, Styles.”_

Harry’s surprised his manager scouted a new PA this quickly; he usually had high standards to meet and the interviewing stage took a lot longer because of that. It’s only been a little over a week since Richard’s been busy trying to find someone new, but he hadn’t found anyone he’s liked so far, up until now, he guesses. Nonetheless, Harry’s happy to have a PA again. 

If there’s one thing Harry didn’t realize how essential it was, it’s definitely having his own personal assistant. 

To any regular person, this might sound completely absurd, and Harry’d easily agree with them. It’s a first world problem and he’s more than aware of it, but for the past ten years of his life, he’s always had someone else deal with the more business side of his career. He hardly had to take care of booking flights or buses, barely had a say in what his schedule during games looked like, and anything he needed to get done, his assistant could get it done for him. Harry didn’t take much advantage of the last one, liking his independence too much to fully let go of it, but the fact that it was even an option was still kind of crazy to him, even after all these years.

Going from having an assistant by his side to being on his own in the time span of a week, the week before the season was meant to start, no less, had added some stress on his shoulders he definitely didn’t need, and it’s mostly been weighted by his manager. 

It’s not like he’s high maintenance, or extremely demanding and unforgiving for the tiniest mistake. His career just can be demanding, at times, and any extra help is always welcome. 

They had to fire his last PA for slacking up lately, which might’ve been the understatement of the century. Lydia had been his assistant for almost six years, which is the longest time, so far, an assistant has kept their job with him. Firing her was a really tough decision to make, one Harry really wanted to avoid since there was a part of him that had grown used to her, but realistically, there’s no point in having an assistant if they keep messing up their job, so even if it wasn’t the most ideal timing, it was a no brainer that it was time to let her go, and until his manager found a new replacement fit enough for the job, Harry was on his own.

In hindsight, it would’ve been ideal to let her go once the replacement was here, but neither Harry or Richard were expecting this much of a difficulty in finding someone capable enough to handle Harry’s schedule.

He still has his management team, teammates, friends, and family, but. Minor details.

Nonetheless, he’s glad he doesn’t have to worry about being without a PA any longer, especially so close to the start of the season. It’s one less thing to stress out over, so it’s a win-win situation for him. 

He replies to Richard with a short and straight to the point “okay”, before heading back to the open tab on his phone with the players’ standings. Harry checks up on more athletes, comparing the Toronto Hawks and himself to their competitors, until he realizes it’s well past midnight and forces himself to go to bed. 

He’s got a long day ahead of himself. 

\------

Harry’s in the middle of a crazy dream, with Niall in red suit pants and flying puppies, when he gets shaken awake by the blaring noise of his alarm. Any memory of what he dreamt about quickly evaporates from his mind as he slowly and groggily wakes to full consciousness, still with that horrible alarm playing in the background. 

He ought to break it one day, he’s sure of it. 

His arm stretches out from under the sheets to turn that damn thing off and as it’s finally quiet in his room again. Harry groans as he turns on his back, closing his eyes and giving himself a few seconds in the silence before hiking up enough strength to start his long day. 

He makes a mental list of what he’ll be doing today, and it’s not any different than what his days usually are like. He’ll hit the gym for a couple of hours and then go practice during the afternoon, hydrating himself and sticking to his diet in between breaks. He’s either meant to be resting after practice or having a meeting with his manager if he calls for one, though Harry can’t recall Richard mentioning anything about a meeting, so he’ll probably fit in another hour or so before being done for the day. 

That’s what the past few weeks have looked like for him, at least. It’s always like this around this time of year; things get hectic and busy, but it’s all just a part of the game and Harry’s no stranger to it. 

He doesn’t really mind it; Harry’s one of those lunatics who actually enjoys working out, and he’s lucky enough to be able to make out a career doing what he loves and being successful at it. And it somehow still sounds like the understatement of the day. It’s just the crazy amount of pressure on him that makes things harder on him. 

After hiking up enough courage, Harry eventually pulls the sheets off of his body and gets out of bed, feeling the fresh morning breeze on his naked body. He’s a firm believer of being naked whenever he can, and it’s not his fault he sleeps better without the constraint of clothes. He even sleeps this way during the winter, he just needs warmer blankets over him and he’s good to go. 

Harry stretches his arms out as he heads into his ensuite bathroom for a quick cold shower to wake himself up. He’s still half asleep when he steps inside the shower, but after he’s done, he’s feeling more awake and like himself, and less like a zombie. 

Harry’s loosely tying his fluffy white towel around his hips, quietly whistling to himself when he almost goes into cardiac arrest. There’s a sudden blaring noise coming from inside his house and he stills as it gets louder. 

He stops what he’s doing in an attempt to listen clearly to what’s happening downstairs, however, all he can hear is a bunch of cutlery and cupboards being opened, so he’s back to square one. Harry’s got no idea what could be going on downstairs, or who it could be, but it still scares him shitless. 

It’s not rare to have family or his management stop by unannounced, but neither of them have said anything about stopping by lately, so Harry gets slightly alarmed. He’s got high end security measures implemented in his house in case any crazy fans stop by, or the off chance of it being a robber. 

It was definitely too early to deal with stalkers or thieves, so Harry’s really hoping it’s nothing to call his security over. But unless he missed a text, he’s definitely got a reason to be concerned.

Harry scurries to wrap his towel in place, wrapping it tightly enough so it wouldn’t fall off, but he’s not confident it’ll hold up well. It hangs a little too low, his happy trail and laurel tattoos in full sight, but Harry can’t be arsed to tie it all over again, not when there’s more important things to worry about than a loose towel. 

Another loud clang comes from downstairs and Harry suddenly wishes he kept a baseball bat, or something equally useful, in his bedroom for situations like these. He’d be shitting himself if he didn’t have enough years of boxing and self defense under his belt that can help him if he needs to, so maybe he’s not too worried. 

_Maybe_. 

He quietly steps out of his room, remaining calm as he tries to make out where the noise is coming from, and who’s making it. It gets louder as he pads closer to the source, and Harry startles himself, almost tripping down the stairs, when he hears a booming laughter coming from downstairs. 

A laughter that Harry immediately recognized as his managers.

Harry wants to bang his head against a wall as he hears his manager clearly speaking on the phone. He worried himself over nothing and even though he’s glad he’s not being held in a high risk situation, he’s starting to doubt if giving a key to his house to Richard was a good idea in the first place. Harry was close to having a heart attack and somehow, he knew that he’d be the one taking the blame for it. 

His heart rate goes back to normal as he goes down his stairs into his living room, cursing Richard all the while he tries to think up the right words for a lecture so that Richard wouldn’t shrug it off for once, like he always did. 

He’s got the argument ready at the tip of his tongue, something along the lines of _‘stop barging into my house’_ and ‘ _i’m getting a restraining order’_ , when abruptly, Harry stops in his tracks at the bottom of the stairs when he turns to see an unfamiliar face sitting on his couch instead of his manager he already expecting to find. His leg anxiously bounces as he glances out the window, biting his lower lip while picking on his nails. A nervous habit, probably. This person was probably too in their head to realize Harry had walked in on him. 

“Uh, hi?” Harry awkwardly speaks up, making the stranger suddenly jerk at the sound of his voice. The stranger stands up, looking at him with wide blue eyes, bulging out in fright, resembling a deer caught in headlights. It’s then that Harry remembers he’s still holding onto his towel for the sake of keeping it in place.

“Oh!” The stranger shoots up, “I’m so sorry, I-” 

Harry watches as his eyes drift lower to his groin, only barely covered by his towel. The smaller figure turns beet red when he brings his eyes back up to Harry’s, and the faint awkwardness lingering in the air makes him feel a lot more naked than he is just now. 

And it’s not like he has any issues with walking around without clothes in the comfort of his own house; it’s probably the best part of living by himself, if he’s honest, but this unfamiliar face’s - _who the hell is he, and what’s he doing in my house?_ \- wide eyes and flushed cheeks are close to giving him something to worry about. 

Harry discreetly shifts his towel to cover any obvious parts of him, but how discreet can it be when he’s got someone attractive standing right in front of him, beet red in the face and who’s trying very hard to ignore the big naked elephant in the room.

Harry clears his throat.

“Who are you?” Harry asks, eyebrow raised and hand gripping his towel in place. Now wouldn’t be time for it to accidentally fall down to his feet; he’s sure the stranger in front of him would faint.

“I’m-”

“Harry!” Both of them turn their heads at the interrupting voice, only to see Harry’s manager stride into the living room. 

“Good to see you up and early, champ,” He grins at the two of them, “I can assume you’ve introduced yourself to your new personal assistant, right?” He glances down and back up at the ice hockey player, “Though I was hoping you’d be wearing more clothes for this.”

 _Oh fuck_ , Harry mentally curses, _The new personal assistant. Of course it is._

It’s Harry’s turn to be embarrassed now. Obviously, Richard was behind all this, and it’s very on brand of him to spring his new PA on him like this. So much for first impressions.

He rolls his eyes at his manager’s remark and glances at his new PA, whose cheeks are still a prominent pink as he tries to avoid Harry’s eyes. 

Harry sighs, “Right, give me a minute.”

“You better come back with more clothes on,” His manager lightly warns as Harry awkwardly turns away to run up the stairs. 

Harry groans and picks up his speed, dropping his towel on the floor as soon as he’s in his room and puts on the first pair of clothes he sees. It ends up being some grey gym shorts and a shirt that probably needs a wash, but could also last for another day. Harry sniffs it to check, slipping it on and heads back downstairs just as quickly as he came up. Hopefully, it’ll be less awkward now that he’s fully dressed, but how does one recover from a first meeting like that? 

“Sorry about that,” Harry mutters, mostly to his new assistant, considering Richard didn’t deserve an apology for not letting him know about this. 

“Anyways,” Richard speaks up, thankfully ignoring the painful awkwardness still very much existent, “Harry, this is Louis Tomlinson, your new personal assistant.”

“S’Nice to meet you,” Louis flashes a nervous smile as he puts his hand out for a shake. Harry easily obliges, fitting his hand on Louis’ and noticing how his hand practically swallows up Louis’. 

“Pleasure’s all mine,” He says, letting his hand linger a little too long. His eyes lock with Louis’ not missing his adorable blush as he looks away. Up closer, Harry’s able to see the boy’s pretty blue eyes, and a perfectly styled fringe that looks effortlessly beautiful. 

“I’ve already filled Louis in on the basics,” Richard interrupts their little moment Harry wasn’t aware he started, “Y’know, gave him a previous run down of how it works, though he’s got a good grasp of the job. I’ve also given him full access to your schedule and files. And most importantly,” He goes on, staring sharply at Harry, “Explained to Louis what to expect and what to not enable.”

Harry rolls his eyes, knowing full well what Richard means by that and also knowing the old man probably exaggerated the hell out of it. 

“But if there’s any questions, Louis,” He turns to Harry’s new PA, “Don’t hesitate to ask either of us.” 

Louis looks a little hesitant as he nods. He’s still picking on his fingers as his eyes flit from the two men, and Harry briefly wonders if he’s suffering from first day jitters, or if he hasn’t totally recovered from their incident. It’s still a fresh wound, but one Harry wants to forget quickly, unless he wants to cringe about it for the rest of his life. He probably will, regardless.

“Alright, thank you Mr. Kennings.” Louis meekly says. 

There’s a moment of silence passed before Richard claps his hands once, making both of them jolt in place.

“Anyways, I’ve got things to do,” His manager says, “Good luck out there and Harry, for God’s sake, try not overwork yourself today, alright?”

“Can’t make any promises, Richard,” Harry shrugs, ignoring the scowl growing between Richard’s wrinkles.

“Walk me out, Harry?”

“Sure,” he says, knowing by Richard’s tone that he’s about to lecture him on something. Harry turns to his new assistant. “Make yourself at home, Louis.”

When they’re out of Louis’ hearing range, Harry takes the opportunity to properly scold Richard like he’s wanted to all morning. 

“Jesus fuck Richard you cant just barge into my house without letting me know.” Harry grumbles.

“I told you, yesterday,” He shrugs nonchalantly, “It’s not my fault you forgot, Harry.”

Harry didn’t forget, he just didn’t know Richard meant he was coming over this morning when he texted him about the new PA last night. Richard didn’t even word it as if he was letting him know ahead of time, anyways. 

“A heads up this morning would’ve been nice,” Harry groans. 

“You not overworking yourself every night would be nice too, but we can’t all have nice things right?” Richard says knowingly. “You better start taking care of yourself more, Styles. Last thing I need is one less player and please, this time, listen to your assistant.”

Harry bites his tongue because ultimately, he knows his manager is right. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, though. He wouldn’t hear the end of it if he did.   
  
“Now go on, I have shit to do and you have practice to head to.”

He actually doesn’t have practice til a few hours, but Harry’s big on warming up and if he hadn’t had any unexpected visitors at home, he’d probably be on his way down to the rink right now. Richard definitely knows that much. 

Richard’s barely out the door when Harry finally closes the door behind him. He won’t go as far and say a weight has been lifted, but he feels his shoulders relax and a tired sigh escape him. Richard was probably Harry’s best manager so far, but that doesn’t erase how tough he can get, especially around the start of the season. Harry’s all for honesty and not beating around the bush, but that man can hit below the belt and remind him of how much he’s got to lose. 

Louis’ back on the couch, sitting with his back way too straight and tense, hands gently resting on his lap as he picks on his nails. He doesn’t look any less nervous than he was a couple of minutes ago, and Harry feels for him. Before he could take up ice hockey professionally, Harry had a bunch of odd jobs as a teenager to help pay for his equipment and to have some extra pocket money, so he never really knew what it was like to have an actual, serious job. But Harry sees how much Louis’ fiddling with his skin tight jeans, and though Harry can’t necessarily relate to him, he doesn’t want Louis to walk on eggshells when he’s around him. 

Not when Harry can help it. 

“Sorry about that,” He says, scratching the back of his neck, “Richard can be a little...too much sometimes.”

Louis shoots him a polite smile, which Harry counts as an upgrade from the awkward tension from earlier. 

Harry's stomach grumbles, reminding him that in the middle of this, Harry forgot to grab something to eat, but before he heads to the kitchen to make something, he considers asking if Louis wanted anything. 

“Can I get you something to eat? Breakfast, maybe?” 

“I’ve eaten already, thanks,” Louis dismisses politely, in a nervous, quiet voice. 

“You sure?” Harry asks again, “I was just about to make something, I’m starving here.” He pats his stomach to accentuate his hunger.

Louis bites his lower lip in a considerate manner, until the corner of his lips turn into a shy smile, “I’ll take a tea, please.”

Harry smiles, content with how he’s pulled a smile out of Louis, even if it’s just a small one. It feels like there’s an accomplishment in there. 

“I think I’ve got some Yorkshire,” Harry muses as he heads into his open kitchen, “Is that alright with you?”

Louis visibly brightens up, enough to even turn his lips into a smile, in a sudden outburst. “That’s my favorite, actually.”

Harry’s glad to see him loosen up a bit, “Sugar?”

“Just a splash of milk.”

He nods and heads into the kitchen, where he starts up a tea for Louis and fixes up his own breakfast while he waits for the water to boil. He’s making a protein shake and whole grain toast with jam, and by the time the kettle’s gone off and whistling, his meal is ready for him to dig in. 

Normally, he’d eat on his kitchen island by himself, leaning over it and being done in minutes, but now, he glances up to his living room area and sees the back of Louis’ head poking from the couch, and figures he might just take everything in a tray and eat beside him. 

He grabs a tray and sets his meal plus Louis’ freshly made tea on it, before picking it up and taking it over to Louis. In Harry’s disappearance, Louis had somehow pulled out a laptop Harry hadn’t noticed before, looking at a very familiar schedule with a picture of Harry on the side, full gear on, despite being just a headshot. 

“Here's your tea,” Harry says as he hands him his piping hot drink. 

“Oh, thanks,'' Louis startles, but is just as quick to settle and put his laptop aside, accepting his warm cup of tea. “I was just checking up on your schedule for the week, but I noticed a file with all your games and such. And, wow. That's _a lot_ of games.”

“Yeah,” Harry chuckles, “I’ve been playing for like, ten years or so, professionally, so things are bound to add up. I’ve lost count of how many games I’ve played, overall, to be honest.”

Louis hums, “I’ve actually never really worked for an ice hockey player, so it’s all kind of new to me,” He confesses.

“Oh, is it?” Harry raises his brows, “Who did you usually work for? Movie stars? ” Harry curiously asks, chuckling as he takes a bite.

“No, not really,” Louis kind of cowers in on himself as if he were embarrassed. “Mostly office jobs, actually.” 

“That’s cool,” Harry smiles. “Must be different here, then.” 

“Yeah, definitely a change…”

Harry can’t quite put his finger on it, but in the span of a few seconds, he somehow made the air around them tense all over again and he kind of wants to punch himself over it, even though he’s not quite sure what he said that caused this awkwardness to happen, he’s set on not letting it stay for long. 

Still, if there’s an award for accidentally making things awkward with a PA in record time, Harry thinks he’s a candidate for it, and he’s got a really good chance of winning it. 

Harry takes a bite of his toast. “You sure you don't want anything?”

He doesn’t think Louis’ taken another sip since the vibe around them shifted. 

“No,” He’s quick to reject his offer, “The tea is great, thank you.”

Louis takes a sip out of it, but Harry's not sure if it’s to make up for him, or to try and dissipate the weird vibe. He's not sure if he wants to find out, either. 

“Okay, let's keep going with the schedule, then.” Harry decides. 

It’s clear there's an elephant in the room, but Harry decides against bringing it up. The poor guy has just started this new job; the last thing Harry wants to do is to make him uncomfortable, even more than he already is. They already had a horrible first impression, he doesn't want to make it any worse.

Louis puts his tea down and goes to grab his laptop, but Harry already knows what he’s got planned for the day, and for tomorrow, too, as a matter of fact, but Louis seems happy to do his job, or at least to have some sort subject change, and Harry won’t really deny him of that. 

“So you’ll have practice in a few hours, and after lunch you're heading to the gym." He reads, frowning, "I’ve got an important note that you’re to be back after. Do you have anything else going on? I don't see a note for a meeting or anything so it could be a mistake?”

The eye roll comes automatically for Harry, “Nah, it’s just Richard who doesn’t want me to overwork myself. I’ve been sneaking into the rink more often and he doesn't like it.”

“Well, he might, uh-” Louis stumbles over his words. He looks visibly nervous and Harry wonders if the mention of Richard was the reason for it. 

“Look, don’t mind Richard too much,” Harry candidly says, “Sure, he’s got at what he does, but that thing he mentioned just now? About being busy? What he means by that is golfing with the other managers. He’s harmless, mostly.”

Louis quietly giggles.

Harry drops his shoulders in relief at managing to pull a smile out of him. It’s a lovely smile, and considerably better than the nervous demeanour he had going on ever since their first interaction, which reminds him-

“Uh,” Harry starts, “Sorry about...earlier,” He winces, “I didn’t know you and Richard were coming over.” 

A pink flush tints Louis’ cheeks, “No, no, it’s okay I-” He stutters,” I just...wasn't expecting… that - but it’s fine, we’re good.”

“Okay, okay. Cool.” Harry awkwardly rubs his palms together, “Cool, cool. So, I'm about to head out to the rink,” He says, “Do you...wanna come with?”

“Yeah, sure,” Louis smiles. “It’ll be cool to see an actual practice, I’ve never watched one in real life before.”

“You haven’t?” Harry raises his brows, “Okay, now you’re definitely coming.”

Louis doesn’t fight him on it. In fact, he looks happy to join and Harry hopes he’ll see past the mild violence going on and see what’s so great about Ice Hockey, and hopefully turn him into a fan. 

\-----

Having Louis join him to practice is definitely a change from what Harry’s used to. 

He considers himself to be quite independent and responsible, so he can’t remember the last time he drove with someone to the rink that wasn’t part of his team. Lydia would usually meet up with him there when he was done with practice, or in the rarest of times, she’d show up in the middle and wait for him on the sidelines, rather than showing up at his house in the early morning and following him around all day.

He’s gotten so used to this, that he was half expecting Louis to stay behind, especially since he wasn’t too much of an ice hockey fan. He was adamant on coming along, and well, Harry couldn’t exactly say no. He seemed excited and keen on wanting to know how things work around the rink, with practices and even the team dynamic, and Harry’s more than happy to show him a thing or two all about it. 

Still, Harry can’t help but think Richard might’ve set Louis up to watch over him and make sure he isn’t staying over any extra time but, regardless, Harry can’t deny that the company feels nice and Louis seems to like his playlist, so it works out for him. 

If Louis doesn’t actually like it, he makes a good job at pretending he does. 

“So, how often do you practice for?” Louis asks over the low hum of a pop song that doesn’t quite fit in with the rest of the grungy, 70’s music in his playlist, “Like, what’s the average like?”

“I guess...two and half hours?” He supposes, “Practices could go on for longer, depending on if you’re practicing for the Stanley Cup, or just for more local games and keeping up. Games are usually about two hours, the whole thing, so the coaches prepare us so we can hold up the entire time.”

“Oh,” Louis says, sounding confused and almost underwhelmed.

“Are you surprised?” Harry asks. He takes his eyes off the road to quickly glance at Louis, and almost snorts in his face. 

“Well, from your schedule and I kind of figured that was the norm?” He unsurely says, “Like, practicing for four or five hours? Not even counting the gym, sometimes.”

“I guess you could say I’m determined,” Harry shrugs as he pulls into the rink’s parking lot, and he can’t tell if he got here faster than usual or if the unusual small talk helped pass the time. 

“Or an over-worker.”

“It’s not like it’s a bad thing,” It’s Harry’s turn to frown, “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Richard.”

“Not more than I have to,” Louis shrugs. “And sure, it’s good.”

“Still way too much,” Harry mumbles as he sets the car in park. Louis’ out before him, leaping out of the SUV, waiting next to the trunk for Harry. He keeps glancing behind himself at the rink, which, from the outside, doesn’t look like much. 

“Do you need me to carry any of your bags?” Louis offers meekly.

Harry snorts. “You can if you want to fall over.”

“That's not - okay nevermind. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

There’s a pink tint on Louis’ cheeks and Harry can’t help but smile to himself as he hikes his equipment bag over his shoulder. Louis’ blushing again.

 _He’s cute,_ Harry thinks to himself.

They walk into the rink together, side by side until Louis falls behind, too distracted by the size of the rink to properly keep up with Harry. He looks over his shoulder to glance at his assistant, and he can’t help but smile at Louis’ wonder. 

Harry greets the security guard who shoots him a surprised look. It’s not every day that Harry came to the rink with company, so his curiosity isn’t unwarranted. Louis hadn’t even realized his curious glance, still too blown away by his surroundings. 

“Wow,” He gawks, “This is bigger than what I had in mind.”

“You get used to it,” Harry shrugs. He’s been playing ice hockey for most of his life, professionally for almost ten years, so he’s seen all sorts of rinks, enough to last a lifetime. Still, there’s something about the amazement in Louis’ eyes that makes him smile, a spark that reminds him of when he first started playing in rinks like these, instead of frozen over lakes and the local rink that wouldn’t even compare to this practice one. 

It’s not to say Harry doesn’t get excited at all. He still does, he still feels the butterflies in his stomach whenever he steps into a different rink for out-of-town games, but even as he still gets thrilled by it all, it's not something that phases him much anymore. 

Harry spots a few of his teammates lurking around, some already warming up in the rink and a few strays who seemed to have arrived just now. There’s still a few more minutes left till practice starts, but Harry still has to gear up and fit some warm ups to get ready to play. 

He slows down once they reach the seating area, conveniently right next to a door leading to the locker rooms. Louis must’ve been too distracted by his surroundings to realize Harry stopped walking, and inevitably bumps into him, immediately grabbing for Harry’s biceps to stop the fall, even though the ice hockey player hardly even budged. 

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Louis curses under his breath and pulls back once he realizes what he said. “Oh, God.” He blushes deeply, “I’m so sorry, that wasn’t professional at all. I wasn’t looking and I-”

Harry almost snorts at his ramblings, but decides to stop them before they got even more embarrassing for Louis.

“It’s okay,” He interrupts, smiling to himself at Louis’ fluster, “Really, you’re fine.”

Louis doesn’t seem any more comforted than he was a minute ago, but his ramblings have stopped and he’s actively willing his blush away. 

“I’m serious, Louis,” Harry tries, reaching a hand out to rub his shoulder, “I hardly even flinched.”

“Right, sorry,” Louis blushes, eyes glancing over Harry’s broader physique and relaxes his shoulders, “First day jitters?”

“No need for that,” Harry assures him. 

Louis smiles at him gratefully before looking away awkwardly attempting to hide his tinted cheeks. 

“So, you can just sit in the booths while I go get changed for practice, maybe the third row if you want a good view of the game.” Harry says, but then rethinks it, “Actually, you might want to get a few rows up, it gets pretty loud in here and I don’t know if you want to get a first hand view of someone smashing against the plexi.”

Louis’ eyes widen, “Does that happen a lot?”

“It’s not a hockey game without it happening at least once,” Harry chuckles, but Louis looks more worried than appreciative of the joke. It doesn’t land and Harry tries not to let it get to his ego.

Harry clears his throat, “Anyways, It’ll probably be a little longer now that the season’s about to start, so I hope you won’t get too bored out of your mind.”

“Not at all!” Louis grins, “I’m excited! I’ve never seen an ice hockey game before, much less this close. It’ll be fun!”

Harry smiles at his enthusiasm, he seems less tense but still really nervous, “I’ll hold you to it.”

It’s nice to feel Louis’ excited energy; even Harry feels more excited now. He watches as Louis heads over to the seating area, taking Harry’s advice and awkwardly squeezing himself between the rows. It’s a more endearing sight than he thought. Harry’s eyes lower for a quick second before he realizes what he’s doing. 

Harry snaps out of it and hikes his equipment bag higher up on his shoulder as Louis settles in his seat, and heads into the locker room so he wouldn’t linger for more than he already has. It’s not like he’s late, he’s still got a couple of minutes before he’s even meant to be here, but he’s used to being the first one in and the last one out and he’s sure he’ll get called out on it. 

Still, as he walks away, Harry looks over his shoulder to see his assistant peering over the rink and looking around. There’s a smile on Harry’s face before he even realizes it. 

Harry’s not alone as he walks in the locker room. He spots a few teammates hanging back, already geared up and ready to go, whereas some are just starting to change. Liam’s already there by his locker, and his face lights up when he sees Harry make his way beside him. 

“Hey, H!” Liam grins, “How are you, mate? Bit late for you, eh?”

He’s right. Harry’s usually here before him, or anyone else for that matter, so it’s not everyday Liam’s got his protective gear on when Harry’s still in his gym clothes. 

“Yeah, left my house a couple of minutes later,” Harry muses as he begins to undress, “I got a new assistant, finally. He’s actually here right now, he’s sitting on the bleachers.”

“Oh, nice. That’s a first,” Liam says surprised, “Took Richard long enough to find you a new one. How is he? Must be a good one if it took that long, eh?”

“I can’t say if he’s better than Lydia for now,” Harry says, “But he’s alright. I think he’s a bit too nervous, but I get it. It’s only his first day.”

“Is he a big fan or something? I’m surprised he’s sticking around to watch.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think he’d want to come along, guess he’s just excited about this,” Harry muses, “I think he just wants to get more insight of how the game works, I don’t think he’s got any experience with ice hockey at all.”

“That’s good to hear,” Liam says, “Hope he’ll learn a thing or two, and don’t worry mate, those nerves will pass, they always do after a week or so.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Harry agrees. 

“Anyways,” Liam picks up his helmet and his brand new stick, since his old one broke during a light practice, “I’m all ready, meet you at the rink for warm ups.”

“Be out soon.” He calls out.

Liam pulls a light jog as he heads out of the locker room. Now that he isn’t here and prone to distract Harry, Harry manages to quickly gear up, tying his laces and standing on them with ease. Walking on his skates is second nature to him by now. He feels like he’s less clumsy with them on, for some reason. Probably because he’s more aware of his balance.

He grabs his helmet before making a leave, and it’s just his luck that fucking Logan walks right in. 

“Break a leg.” Logan grins, “Or your back. Either works.”

Harry rolls his eyes and bumps his shoulder with Logan’s, to which he grunts at because Harry's in full gear and he isn’t, as always. 

“Watch it, Hudson,” Harry grunts, “And don’t be late again.”

Harry’s mood always turns to the sour side after any interaction with Logan. He’s an idiot, to say the least and Harry can’t fucking stand him. He’s impulsive and aggressive in the rink, and doesn’t act like much of a team player. How he managed to get a contract with the team goes beyond him, and it’s not surprising how even out of the rink, he’s still just as much of an idiot. 

Harry’s really not the type of person to so avidly dislike someone, but Logan’s got a cocky attitude that simply doesn’t fly with Harry at all. He doesn’t like his vibe, is the thing, and he does a lot of talk for someone who sits out for most games. Sure, Logan’s fast on his skates and can take a hit, but he’s rather aggressive in the rink and tends to keep the puck to himself, even when it’s not in his favor, as well as doing a number of dumb shit that isn't an example for the team. 

Overall, Harry thinks it’s a terrible idea he’s still hanging around, even if it’s just as a backup player at this point. 

Shaking those thoughts aside, Harry steps into the rink and easily manages to hold himself up as he properly slides his mouth guard on, and puts on his helmet. He glances at the rink, noting how most of his team isn’t here yet, which gives him enough time for a pre-warm up. 

Harry always likes to glide around the rink before anyone gets there anyways, just to get his mind in the zone. He often forgets about his surroundings when he’s on ice, and it helps him to focus on the game. Practices aren’t nearly as intense as actual games, but there’s still a lot of weight on Harry’s shoulders to always stay on his best game. It wouldn’t be a lie to say he’s the one adding the extra pressure onto himself. 

His shoulders feel tense already and he’s hardly even breached into the rink. 

_Breathe, Harry_ , He thinks to himself, _You fucking dolt._

He takes in a deep breath, or as much as he could with the mouth guard on, and holds onto his hockey stick as he drifts through the ice. He goes easily, with experienced practice and takes a lap around the rink, gliding effortlessly and mindfully avoiding getting in the way of any of his teammates, who were doing their own warm up by passing around a puck. 

As he goes for his second lap, he thinks of Louis, who’s currently sitting on the sidelines. Harry idly wonders if he’s enjoying himself, even though nothing much is happening already. Harry can see how it’s a little daunting for anyone who isn’t even familiar with how a game goes down, and hopefully he’ll see past the roughness that comes with the game and actually enjoy himself. 

He skates closer to where Louis’ sitting and smiles to himself when he sees his new assistant curiously watching as more players get inside the rink to start their warm up. He’s reaching his neck out for a better view, despite the bleachers being practically empty, which Harry takes as a sign he’s interested, and there’s a sense of satisfaction he gets from turning people into hockey fans. 

His eyes then fall onto Harry’s, and almost immediately, Louis nervously smiles at him and waves a quick ‘hello’. Harry snorts to himself and waves back, eliciting a giggle out of his assistant, as well as faint blush on his cheeks. 

He almost can't fully appreciate it, since suddenly, Louis’ smile drops and averts his eyes behind him, making Harry look over his shoulder and Harry’s quick enough to slow down on his skates, barely hitting against the plexi board before easily turning around and dodging it. 

Louis’ worried expression softens into a laugh when Harry skates away from the edge, and back into safety. But then again, considering how rough some games can get, maybe crashing against the plexi would be a safer bet, especially when there’s no one checking him against it. 

Regardless, it’s good to see Louis laugh. Harry wouldn’t mind seeing him smile like that again, that’s for sure. It’s better than him being nervous around Harry, even if Harry kind of instigated that, accidentally so. 

Harry takes a few more laps, altering his speed, before joining Liam in practicing passing and shooting while they wait for the rest of their teammates to arrive. They manage to practice for a bit before the familiar sound of the coaches whistle goes off, signaling the start of today’s practice, as well as Louis’ first time watching a game.

It’s bound to be good.

\----

After three hours in the rink, Harry’s completely beat.

It’s been a successful practice, everyone played their best today and it feels like they’re ready for the season. Harry’s also confident they’ll make it through the pre-season with hardly any effort, if things keep up like this. They’ve had a long time to prepare themselves, and it’s quite hard to believe how fast, yet so slowly, another season started, and it seems like it’s one that’ll go just as good as the previous one. 

With this said, Harry did get himself checked mid-practice, and so did Felix and Archer, which, even so, is something every team player has to prepare themselves for. It’s much better to mentally prepare yourself than to get the actual hit, but it’s all part of it and no one truly is an ice hockey player unless they get checked, at least once in their lifetime. 

Even if it’s common knowledge around here, Harry hates to admit out loud how much of a toll checking can take on you. Over the years, Harry’s worked hard on building the physique to handle himself in the rink, build up the muscles to protect himself and give him strength to bounce back. Even the protective gear beneath his hockey jersey isn’t exactly light weight. It’s definitely the type of sport that requires a lot of body strength, but no amount of working out can prepare you for a 200lbs, six foot tall man charging into you at full force. 

Accidents also tend to happen more than not, which is something to look out for as well, since those can turn sour real quick. Either way, games always end with a couple of bruises or muscle soreness, and Harry’s no stranger to coming back home with an ice pack or a hot water compress or two. 

For once, he follows his team out to the locker room instead of lingering behind. From years of playing, Harry since then developed the habit of staying back, at first with a couple of teammates, and then developed to him staying by himself, practicing techniques and working on his speed. His mum says he used to do this as a kid, too, always wanting more time to play, whining and huffing every time she dragged him out against his will. 

“Leaving so soon, Styles?” Coach Tudor jeers from behind. “You got a missus to get home to now?”

“Something like that,” Harry tries to nonchalantly shrug it off, as if his failed love life wasn’t known around here anyways. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” He promises.

“I’ll hold it to ya, eh!” Coach replies. 

Harry picks up his pace to catch up with his teammates, which is a bit of a struggle with skates on, unless he wants to look like he pissed himself. Thankfully, Jackson’s waiting behind and he holds the door open for him and he’s instantly met with loud noises of the players speaking, or rather, jeering over each other. 

“Good game, lads,” Harry raises his voice in the filled up locker room. It quieted down significantly to hear what the captain had to say, “Let’s keep up like this.”

He gets positive cheers back, which always motivates Harry to do better, for himself and for the team. Everyone’s hyped up as the season approaches and the teams never looked better. Harry doesn’t want to think too ahead of himself, but he thinks there’s a good chance of a great season for them. They’ve been getting steady wins for the last five years in a row, and the last thing he wants to do is jinx it for them. 

Instead, Harry grabs for his towel and smacks Yanis’ ass, loudly and hardly enough his teammate flinches by surprise before joining in on the laughter and making a run to get Harry back, but Harry’s quick on his feet and smacks him again before he gets the chance. 

All the fun stuff. 

\--

After finally settling down and getting properly dressed, in gym clothes nonetheless, Harry picks up his bag and heads out to where Louis was sitting, and sees him waiting by stairs, intermittently glancing around the rink, then back at his phone as he waits for him.

“Sorry if I took long in there,” Harry apologizes as he jogs to him, “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“No, it’s okay,” Louis shrugs off, pocketing his phone, “You didn’t take that long.”

Harry knows it’s a bit of a lie, but decides against calling him out on it. It already takes long enough to properly get out of all that protective gear and into normal gym clothes, but locker room talk always causes a set back in time. Louis wasn’t used to this, so despite any expectations he had, he was still probably bored out of his mind waiting. 

Harry hikes his bag up on his shoulder, unintentionally making himself flinch in a quick spark of pain. 

“What’s wrong?” Louis frowns, eyeing in on the tender spot on Harry’s shoulder, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Harry dismisses, swallowing a grunt so Louis wouldn’t fuss over it, “Just got checked a few times. Probably got a bruise or something. It’s whatever.”

“Are you sure?” Louis raises a brow, not really believing him, “It doesn’t really seem like you’re fine.”

“It doesn’t really hurt, honestly,” Harry says, “This happens all the time, I’m used to it.”

“Yeah, I saw how intense it gets,” Louis winces, “I don’t think I could last one second in that rink.”

“You haven't even seen half of it, honestly.” Harry mentions. “It gets pretty rough in there, sometimes, eh.” 

Louis frowns, “You’re not making an appealing case, Harold.”

“Sorry, I’ll try harder next time,” He chuckles, “Anyways, I’m starving. Do you want to head out for some lunch with me or-?”

“Lead the way.” He smiles politely.

\-----

Harry’s had lunch with plenty of assistants and with everyone, it’s always different. Xavier would blabber the entire meal, Yasmin was barely around for meals unless it was a meeting and with Lydia, she had no patience with Harry’s workaholic tendencies, or anything at all. Which Harry respected for a while, but it got annoying and was quick to lose any logic since she wasn't good at her job in the end.

Louis was no exception. 

It was a little awkward because of how shy and nervous Louis was. Any question Harry asked that was more personal than “what’s your favorite color” caused Louis to either be super vague or clam up about. Their conversations usually ended up just being Harry talking about his career, and how long he’d been playing for; over ten years. 

Considering how their morning together went, the two spent another evening of awkward silence together. It’s not like Harry could blame him, though . They hardly knew each other, and were suddenly forced to follow each other around. It was all water off a duck’s back for Harry, though. He had had too many first lunches with PAs to let the awkwardness bother him, and so the silence was mostly filled up with him talking about what he knows best - ice hockey.

Throughout it all, Harry had figured that Louis was rather quiet, and preferred to listen and despite the lack of conversation on his side, Louis seemed curious, even if he didn’t quite understand some rules. 

After finishing their pleasantly awkward meal, Louis wasn’t quite convinced that Harry was physically ready to go work out at the rinks gym. Harry hadn’t complained about any ache or pain since they left the rink, but Louis wasn’t sure if it’d be a good idea. 

“I’m fine, Louis,” Harry assures him as they leave the small restaurant.

“I just think maybe an hour of sitting down and relaxing could be better,” Louis suggests, “And are you hydrated? You hardly drank anything during lunch.”

Harry knows where this worry comes from. All his previous assistants knew what it was like to work with an athlete, but Louis’ new to all this so it’s not coming off as a surprise that Louis is worrying. It’s also endearing in a way, how quickly Louis was to care about things like this. He must be a caring person, but Harry’s been doing this for long enough to know he can handle a work out right now. He needs it if he wants to keep up.

Louis’ still resistant about his habits, which Harry doesn’t necessarily blame him for. He doesn’t want to ask him, but Harry’s convinced Richard might’ve exaggerated to him about his late night practice habits, and that’s probably where Louis’ wariness is coming from. Plus, after seeing how a real game goes, his uneasiness might’ve increased. 

It takes a lot of practice to get to where Harry’s at right now, and though he understands Louis’ concern, he can’t afford to slack up. Not when the pre-season is about to start. It’s extremely important that he’s on his A-game, as well as his team. Any slip up can cost their chance at getting into the Stanley Cup, and after 5 consecutive wins, Harry’s got no intention of stopping the win streak. 

Louis barely says a word about it as Harry drives them to the gym. He mostly keeps to himself, but he does end up playing with the radio station until he gives up and settles to the station that was on in the first place. 

Louis’ company isn’t something to complain about. It was clear how much of an attentive person he was, and he was generally nice to be around. A little too quiet, but after their lunch together, Louis’ been a lot more relaxed around him, probably because he realized Harry isn’t the most high maintenance to be around, nor as stuck up as his previous bosses were. Not that Harry really sees himself as a boss, anyways. The nerves and tense shoulders still remain, even with any small talk Harry brings up, but there’s a part of Harry that knows it’ll only be a matter of time before Louis fully settles. 

Once they arrive, Harry sees there’s a few teammates here at the gym already, which isn’t unusual.

Louis’ probably the most overdressed person in the gym, with his just-ironed jeans and button-down shirt, and he’s probably the best looking around all these sweat clad people, other than best-dressed, that’s for sure. 

There’s a part of Harry that would take the Louis-following-him-around aspect a bit too literally, thinking he would literally follow him around the gym like a lost little kitten, but as they walk in, Louis stops next to some chairs beside the door, lined up against the wall and sitting unused.

“I’m just gonna sit here and work a little, if that's okay,” Louis says. He’s got his laptop inside his satchel and probably has some work to catch up on since he was too invested in watching the practice earlier, and hadn’t even glanced at his phone during lunch. 

“Yeah that's fine,” Harry says, “I mean unless you’re secretly a personal trainer too, then that wouldn't be as fine.”

“Do I _look_ like I could lift one of those?” Louis points at Enzo, who was busy lifting heavy weights and huffing out every time he dropped it.

Harry laughs, because he does have a point. Louis has a rather petite figure, he’s probably a third of Harry’s size and half his weight. It’d probably take a lot of strength for him to even pick up those weights, but he gets the feeling Louis wouldn’t even be up for trying. 

“There's only one way to find out,” Harry prompts, laughing at Louis’ over-it face.

“Hard pass big daddy, I’ll just sit right here and look cute instead.” He says, already moving to sit down and plugging his laptop in. Harry’s eyes widen at his words, taken aback in the best way possible, “Just let me know when you’re about to finish, yeah?” 

Harry wants to comment on the innuendo, but ultimately decides against it. He’s got a workout to get to, and he can’t afford getting distracted by cute men and his own mind stuck in the gutter.

Harry puts his earphones in as Louis shoos him away, and smiles to himself as he heads over to the treadmill for some warm up cardio. As he gets on it, he looks over his shoulder and sees Louis’ typing away on his laptop, completely ignoring his surroundings, and yeah, he could get used to this. 

\-----

When Harry’s done with his workout, sweating from every angle and holding an empty water bottle, he almost laughs out loud when he sees Louis hunched over and asleep on the chair. And if he thinks Louis looks cute with his long eyelashes fanning out across his cheekbones as he softly breathes, then no one else has to know.

\-----

The rest of the day flies by quicker than usual, and Harry thinks Louis’ to blame. 

After returning from the gym, both of them head back to Harry’s house with the purpose of chilling out. Usually after resting up for a bit, Harry tends to work out in his backyard or head back to the rink for another practice round, but he gets distracted when Louis brings up his lack of ice hockey knowledge and well, Harry couldn’t exactly resist teaching him the basics.

“I don’t like those rules,” Louis frowns, “They don’t even make sense, why can’t younger players make longer passes and why the hell is cross checking bad?!”

“It’s the rules, Louis,” Harry laughs, “Can’t exactly go against them, can I?”

Louis’ arms cross over his chest as he huffs, “Well I don’t like them.” 

Harry raises a brow at the change of attitude, but chuckles anyways because it’s nice to see Louis a lot more comfortable than earlier. A faint flush makes its way onto Louis’ cheeks when he catches Harry laughing at him. 

“I mean - sorry.” He cowls, “I just...can’t with those rules.”

“It’s okay,” He smiles, “Some rules are pretty stupid, if I’m honest.”

Harry’s positive he sees Louis’ shoulders relax a bit as he laughs along, and it feels good to see a more relaxed side of him, and being the reason for it. 

For the rest of the day, they don't do much other than watch a few clips, that turn into several best-moments, of past games. Harry goes on tangents about his own experiences while playing and laughs when Louis almost throws up at Harry's green looking protein shake. Harry’s glad to see him loosening up, and can’t help but think it’s the start to something good.

\---

After whipping up a quick dinner, Harry offers to drive Louis back to his place.

It’s an apartment lot that Richard had prepared for him, as far as Harry knows. It was quaint and friendly enough, but Louis hasn't said a word about settling in and what it’s like to be here, other than a mention of how things are boxed up and still coming and that the neighbourhood seemed nice. 

“And I-” Louis gets interrupted by his own phone, buzzing inside his front pocket and cutting Louis’ anecdote about his next door neighbour. 

“Oh, sorry, I-” Louis flushes as he slips his phone out of his pocket, frowning when he glances at the screen before shutting it off. Harry doesn’t miss the obvious discomfort on Louis’ face. 

“You can answer that if you want,” Harry breaks the silence.

“Uh, no it's… it’s fine I’ll deal with it later,” Louis dismisses. Harry raises a brow, but decides against pushing it, and Louis seems grateful enough for that. 

“Anyways,” Louis clears his throat, “Thanks for driving me here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He barely gives Harry a chance to reply before he’s out the door and running into the lobby to avoid the rain that started to fall. Harry doesn’t drive off until Louis’ safely inside, and even then, he lingers behind. Harry can barely make the shape of his body through the glass windows, but after a couple of minutes, the rain starts getting worse and Harry thinks it’s best to get home. 

He’s got an early morning anyways. 

\----

“Can you _please_ try not to get yourself hurt this time?” Louis sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Can’t make any promises,” Harry shrugs with a smirk on his face. 

Louis shakes his head, “I won’t be there with a hot compress or a tea when you get yourself hurt, which will happen anyways because you literally have no care for yourself.”

“Please, Louis,” Harry scoffs, throwing an arm around the smaller one’s shoulders, “You gotta have more faith in me, I know what I’m doing.”

It’s Louis’ turn to scoff, “It doesn't seem like it.”

It’s only been a week since Louis’ started being his PA and he was quick to get the jist of how Harry is and what his career entails. He’s figured a few bruises here and there were fine, but it’s the checking that keeps him on his toes, and Harry almost wants to laugh because there’s a lot that goes down on ice that’s a lot worse than checking. Still, generally speaking, Harry’s wise enough to keep checking to a limit, since it can cause disqualifications and severe penalties, but even as it’s advised against, it’s not a game without someone being checked. 

Harry’s worked up the strength to bounce back from a hit and spent the best part of the entire week proving that much to Louis. There’s still room for convincing, so it seems, but Harry’s always up for a challenge. 

Louis isn’t any less concerned. Harry thinks he’s worsened his worries a little bit, but it’s better to prepare him to have him see shit go down and not expect it. 

Harry knows he’s being like this since during his last practice, he earned himself a nasty bruise on his shoulder. He also knows that Louis’s aware things get rough in the rink, and is just looking out for him. No matter how many times Harry tells him getting hurt is a part of the game, Louis doesn’t get any less relaxed. 

“Fine, I’ll try to dodge it,” Harry settles, which isn’t exactly a lie, since these games and practices can be unpredictable, but he’s willing to put in an extra effort over his safety if it’ll make Louis feel any better. 

It comes with a cost, though. 

“But you’ll have to let me stay here without snitching.”

“You know, I think little kids have better compromises than that,” Louis comments, “But sure, as long as you know what you’re doing. And also only forty five minutes.”

“Deal,” Harry winks. They shake on it, and Harry doesn't miss the eye roll or the smile on Louis’ face.

\----

Harry ends up achieving his part of the deal and finishes practice without a scratch. It could’ve been because he was trying to prove a point to Louis, but it’s not like he’d ever admit it out loud. This time, Harry went out of his way to dodge any checking coming his way, narrowly avoiding anything that could end up in a couple of bruises, and it ended up working out for him.

It’s not how Harry usually plays, but it’s not the end of the world, and as Harry skates over to where Louis’ standing as his teammates leave, Louis seems very pleased with himself as, for once, Harry listened to him, instead of shrugging it off and going his own way. 

“So, I think I did pretty well today.” Harry smirks as he steadies himself.

“You did,” Louis agrees, leering with his arms crossed, “Not sure if I should applaud a fish for swimming, though.”

“I wouldn't mind some applause from you,” Harry shrugs, “You can practice your standing ovation while I'm in the rink, if you want.”

Louis snorts, “Nice one, I’ll be waiting for you outside the locker room.”

Harry’s smirk drops, “Uh, what?”

“All your teammates have already gone to change,” Louis coyly points over his shoulder behind him to where the locker room is, “Don't you want to go, too? I’m sure all that equipment must be weighing you down.” 

“Uh…” Harry stutters, “No, what? I thought we had an agreement.”

“Yeah, well, I take it back,” Harry’s jaw slacks, “Go on, we don’t have much time. Richard wants to see you.”

“But we…” Harry falters, “We _literally_ shook on it, Louis.”

Louis shrugs, “Don’t hate the player, Harry. Hate the game.”

Even if Harry’s half certain he really doesn’t have any meetings with Richard right now, Louis wasn’t budging, so reluctantly, Harry drops his shoulders and grumbles the entire time he steps down out of the rink. He also pretends Louis isn’t giggling beside him as he heads into the locker room, for the sake of his mental wellbeing. 

Louis’ gonna pay for this, he’ll be sure of it. 

“You can take that smug look off your face,” He grumbles to his assistant. 

“I don’t know,” Louis smiles, “I kind of like how it looks on me.”

Harry can’t deny it, the annoying little smirk does fit him well, but doesn’t admit it out loud. Louis doesn't deserve that satisfaction right now. 

\----

Pre-season is steadily approaching and every day Harry gets a little more stressed out. 

He’s already had his fair share of games and pre seasons to last a lifetime, but it doesn’t mean he gets any less nervous than the first time he played professionally. In fact, he might even be more nervous now that he's got so much to lose, but he tries not to let it show, sticking to keeping a neutral, composed attitude.

  
Harry heads to today's practice by himself, missing Louis’ presence even though they’ve just been together a few hours ago. Louis had work to do, though, and he usually gets distracted in the rink because of all the loud noises. So, for today, he prefered to stay back at Harry's house and get more work done. 

Harry’s changing into his gear, mindlessly thinking over what he needs to improve on, and foul proof strategies to discuss with his coach later on. He also thinks about the workouts he’ll do when practice is over, and idly wonders if Louis didn’t forget about picking up some groceries for the week. 

“Hey, Styles,” He hears someone say, pulling him out of his thoughts. It’s Yanis, one of his teammates and close friend over the years. 

“Hey, Yanis,” Harry says. 

“How’re you doing? Been keeping secrets from us?” He winks, “Who’s the new boyfriend, eh?”

Harry’s in the middle of pulling his jersey down when Yanis asks him that question. He’s definitely not expecting that and gets caught by surprise, frowning as he wracks his head on who Yanis might be confusing as his boyfriend. He actually hasn’t dated anyone for a few years now, and he doesn’t remember mentioning even meeting someone new lately.

Except. 

His new personal assistant comes into mind.

“Who? Louis?” 

Yanis shrugs, “I don’t know his name, but it’s cute,” He grins, “Just like him.” 

Harry frowns at Yanis’ comment. He probably just said it to rile Harry up since he’s been happily married for three years now and has a daughter on the way. He suddenly regrets ever confiding about his love life to Yanis in the first place. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Harry corrects him as he slides his jersey on, “Just my new PA. Lydia got fired, remember?”

“Oh, right,” He says, sounding surprised, “Sorry, dude. My mistake. He’s just been hanging around here all week, and you guys seem really close, so I just figured you finally settled down with someone.”

This comes as a surprise to Harry. 

It’s only been a couple of weeks since Louis first showed up at his house, under the pretense of being his new assistant, and since then, he hardly left his side. Louis tags along in every practice, waits for him at the gym, and hangs back wherever Harry goes. He’s almost like a shadow, and it never bothered Harry much at all. 

Louis’ well fit for the job, more than well fit, if he’s honest. There’s still a couple of weeks before the season actually starts, and Louis’ well prepared and organized for that stressful period in Harry’s career, which he wasn’t fully expecting since Louis’ never worked for an athlete before, much less an athlete in a branch he hadn’t had much of a clue about. 

Harry’s also glad to start to see a new side of Louis; less tense, more relaxed and a little cheekier. It’s not a constant thing though; he still gets nervous and tight lipped here and there, which sometimes makes Harry think they’re back to square one. Harry just wants him to be comfortable, so he does his best to make it possible. 

Louis was definitely nervous in his first week. He barely spoke up and kept to himself, but, since then, he’s really gotten out of his shell and last night, as they hung out in the living room, Harry considered mentioning how nice this change was to him. 

Louis had hung around while Harry fixed his stick. It needed to be re-taped and the blade was due to get buffed out. He was sitting on the carpet for this, while Louis sat cross legged on the couch and clicked away on his laptop. 

Every now and then, he could feel Louis’ gaze on him, and even caught him glancing a few times. When Harry pointed it out and asked if he wanted to help, Louis blushed and threatened to break his stick if he didn’t shut up.

Harry doesn’t play around when it comes to threats towards his stick, so he shut up real quick and let the sound of his tape fill the room, instead of his silly observations . 

“Uh, no man.” Harry shrugs off, “There’s nothing between us.”

“You sure about that?” Yanis raises his brow, leaning against the lockers, “Do PAs stick around to watch our practice?”

“I mean, I guess.” Harry unsurely says, “Yours does.”

“Not for every single practice,” Yanis says like he means something else.

“Uh, well,” Harry clears his throat. Louis does, he’s here for most of their practices, but Harry doesn’t want to say it out loud now. Not when Yanis’ looking at him like that. 

“If you say so,” He shrugs, not sounding fully convinced. Still, he changes the subject to something completely different as if he didn’t just get into Harry’s head about his assistant.

The conversation still lingers in Harry's head as he steps inside the rink. 

He takes a few rounds on the ice to warm up, but this time, he can’t help but glance at Louis every time he skates by close enough. Sometimes, Louis catches his gaze and shoots him an encouraging smile. Others, he seems too distracted on what’s happening on the other side of the rink to realize Harry's eyes on him. And _fuck_ , what is Harry even doing? 

PA’s coming to watch their practices and games isn’t weird at all. It happens all the time and just because his teammates’ assistants don't do it much doesn’t mean there's any ulterior motive behind it. 

Right? Right. 

The whistle goes off before Harry realizes it, but he’s quick to get back into the swing of things with no outside distractions. He does his part, working on his speed and throws the puck around. But he also misses a few cues, breaks a couple of rules and accidentally checks Liam instead of swerving past him last minute. Overall, rookie mistakes he shouldn’t be making in the first place, and hasn’t made in a while now. 

“C'mon, Styles!” Coach yells at him, “Where’s your fucking head at? Focus!”

Harry nods, because he can’t really argue back. He’s unfocused, and it’s just not acceptable at this point in time. His head can’t be elsewhere other than in the game, and he just needs to get his focus back into place. He’s usually able to zone anything non related to the game out, but he knows all this is probably about that little conversation he had with Yanis in the locker room.

He also can’t shake off the feeling of Louis’ eyes on him, watching him on the sidelines as his coach drilled his head in. He doesn’t even want to imagine having to explain to him why he was so unfocused in the first half. He knows Richard likes to check in with his PAs to see how Harry’s doing, and he’s really not in the mood to hear it if practice keeps going this badly. 

Harry keeps playing, blanking out his mind from shit that didn’t matter right now, and as the practice round goes on, he’s almost about to make a pass, when suddenly he feels someone shove into his shoulder. He’s unable to protect himself as he crashes against the plexi, barely catching himself before he falls over to the ground with a grunt. 

The whistle goes off and the game stops as Harry groans and picks himself up, steadily balancing himself on the slippery ice. 

“Fuck, sorry about that, Styles,” Lucien apologizes as he helps Harry up.

“S’alright,” Harry grunts, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Harry, you alright?” Coach asks. His shoulder kind of hurts and so does the leg he fell on, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. He’s been in worse pain and kept going and that’s what he’ll do now.

“Yeah m’good.” He grunts. Coach Tudor looks at him unsurely, but ultimately lets it go.

“Right, let’s get back to the game.”

Harry makes the poor decision to look at Louis. It was better if he hadn’t; he’s standing, raised in his seat, looking worried, and maybe a little pissed off, and Harry grimaces at what could come from it. 

The game eventually finishes without any other issues, and for once, Harry beelines to the locker room without any complaints, instead of hanging back and picking out any excuse to linger. 

He ignores any banter going on behind him and zones out as he thinks about how much he fucked up for losing his focus in that first half. Deep down, he knows there’s no point in mulling over faults that he knows he can bounce back from, but this shit shouldn’t even happen in the first place. 

No matter what, he always needs to be on his best game. He’s got a lot depending on him and he can’t let a dumb conversation bother him this much, to the point where he couldn’t even stop a check from happening. He knows how to dodge those, but he didn’t and that’s what’s bothering him the most. 

Yanis shoots him a worried look as he finishes tying his shoes, which Harry promptly ignores. He’s not really in the mood to talk it, or anything at all, so he just stands up and puts his heavy bag on the less hurting shoulder, mumbling a short goodbye to his teammates, before heading out. 

“What's wrong with Styles?” He hears someone say, though he doesn’t stay behind to hear any answers, not that there’d be any at all. Harry doesn’t even have an answer himself. 

He isn’t surprised to see Louis, arms crossed waiting in front of the locker room and though Louis isn’t the one who could reprimand him, there’s still a part of him that’s reluctant about speaking to him. 

“Hey, Lou,” Harry says, faking a smile before grimacing at Louis' disappointed face. 

“What happened out there?” He asks, going straight to the point. 

“Don't know,” Harry shrugs off, “Just got in my head, I guess.”

“Richard’s gonna find out about this eventually.” He says, “And you know that means no extra time. _Dammit_ Harry, I told you you’d get hurt.”

For once, there’s a part of Harry that's glad to sit out. But he knows if he sits, he only becomes frustrated for wasting working out time. 

“It happens,” Harry shrugs, trying to act more indifferent than he actually is, “But I'm fine. Promise.”

“Are you sure?” Louis raises a brow, eyeing how the gym bag wasn't resting on Harry's usual shoulder. 

“Yes, I promise, Louis. I've been doing this for ten years, this was nothing. Believe me, I've seen and been in worse situations.” Harry insists, already feeling himself start to get pissed off. It’s his fault, though, so he takes a breather and tries not to project his frustration onto him. “But I wouldn’t exactly mind a hot compress. Y'know, tough, athletic dude things.” 

Louis rolls his eyes, clearly not appreciating how Harry tries to add humor to the situation. Harry doesn't like it either; it feels fake and uncomfortable, and it weight a little heavy on him. 

“Let’s just go back to your house,” Louis decides, “You need to rest, I told you that you need to rest and today was proof of that. Just relax, pop a movie and get back tomorrow, okay?”

Normally Harry wants nothing more than to be playing, but he’s feeling so off, that anything to distract him out of his thoughts would be great about now. Any work he misses today, he can definitely make up for tomorrow.

“Sure, let’s go.”

Louis was probably expecting a lot more resistance from Harry, raising a brow at Harry's agreeableness. He doesn’t speak on it, instead turning and heading out. 

Yanis spots them walking out together, which is the last thing Harry wants. Yanis winks at Harry, who promptly throws him the middle finger. Yanis simply laughs back at him. 

“What's that all about?” Louis asks, interrupting what he was saying.

“He’s just messing around.” Harry shrugs off, while throwing daggers in Yanis’ way.

Louis hums, continuing on what he was saying and though Harry directs his attention back to him, he barely hears any of what he’s saying, though, too distracted by his soft features and pretty eyes. 

\-----

Harry’s mind hasn’t quite drifted from Louis yet. 

Granted, it’s pretty hard to avoid thinking about him, when he’s right by his side for a big part of his days, but ever since Yanis planted that stupid comment in his brain, Harry can’t seem to think about anything else. 

He thinks of their time spent together and anything that might’ve caused Yanis to think of them as a couple. He’s been taking Louis down to the rink all week and sure, they’re together pretty much all day and he likes to chat with Louis in between breaks at the gym, (which he lingers at for reasons unknown, since he technically doesn’t have to be there and he knows it)) and finally got him to hold a dumbbell, (which he did only because Harry was carrying all its weight). 

There was really nothing to it. Louis was just his PA, and he didn’t even have feelings for him like that, it’s _weird_ to even think about him like that, right?

Harry knows how he gets when he’s dating someone - affectionate, jealous, possessive, pathetic to a certain point - and he’s positive he hasn’t been acting like that around Louis, at least not that he can recall. 

Then again, if Yanis mentioned something like that, there might... _possibly_ be an inkling of truth? 

No, Harry scoffs. That’s just ridiculous. He’s just overthinking something that's not even half true and probably not even legal. Is it even legal?

Harry shakes his head. He’s clearly looking way too deep into this and he knows it, but it still doesn’t stop him from reaching his laptop and googling how legal it is to date your personal assistant. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, or what he even expects to get from this, but his curiosity can’t be a good sign. 

He should be asleep by now, it’s already an hour past his usual bedtime, but instead, he’s sitting up on his bed and hunched over his laptop and scrolling through page after page, trying to find an answer. He probably spends a lot more time than he’d like to admit trying to find a solid answer, and by the time he’s clicked on his fifth webpage, he thinks he’s gathered enough information. 

His eyes are burning by the end of his search, but at least he’s managed the closest thing to an answer. 

Dating your personal assistant wasn’t necessarily illegal, but there’s a lot of complications that can come along with it. It seemed to be frowned upon by some people; some articles he read were very much against it. On the other hand, there were other articles that weren’t necessarily encouraging it, but rather claimed to be wary. In the end, only one phrase stuck to Harry’s mind: it’s not illegal. 

Harry’s glad he’s got his answers, but then again he wonders why he’d even googled it in the first place. Why was he so invested in the first place? He wasn’t interested and he didn’t even have any feelings for him remotely close to a crush. He was just thinking way too far ahead, and had a bad case of pent up sexual frustration. Nothing else. At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself. 

It’s perfectly valid that the only reason he’s overthinking this is purely because he can barely remember the last time he slept with someone, much less been in a committed relationship, so it’s all clearly pent up frustrations he just needs to let out, somehow. 

Still, thoughts like these aren’t something Harry should even be entertaining right now. He’s got other things to worry about, big things like his career and the upcoming season and it’s the worst time possible to fixate on any meaningless things like this, yet Louis’ face keeps popping up in his head and he can’t do much to fucking stop. 

Shaking his head out of those thoughts, he closes his laptop and sets it on his bedside table. He turns the light off and turns over to get comfortable, willing himself asleep despite the thoughts crossing his mind. 

The last thing Harry remembers are blue eyes and a pretty smile.

\---

Harry wakes up in a cold sweat and with a raging hard on. 

He feels it before he’s even fully awake and he can’t remember what he dreamt of that left him like this, but it throbs under the sheets and prominently tents up, making it almost impossible to ignore. He just wants to go back to sleep though, turning over in bed and willing it away, but Harry can’t drift off to sleep when his cock aches for a touch. 

Harry groans into his pillow. Ignoring his cock isn’t working and he can’t take it anymore.

Feeling groggy and sleep-ridden, Harry groans as he turns on his back and brings his hand down to grip the base of his cock, hissing at the warm touch. It feels amazing and a breath of relief slips out his lips before he could even process it. He dryly slides his fist on his thick girth, gripping tighter where it feels best and running his thumb through his cock slit every time his fist comes up to his head. He lets his head fall back on his pillow, closing his eyes as he feels his pleasure build up. 

There’s a warm feeling at the pit of Harry’s abdomen that tells him he’s close despite barely even doing anything. He chases that feeling, gripping his cock with one hand and massaging his balls with the other, cradling his sack how it feels best. 

The slide is dry and rough, only saved by the pre cum leaking from Harry’s slit. He considers grabbing some lube from the bedside table to get a smoother slide, but Harry’s way too lazy for that right now, no matter how good it sounds, and he already feels so close, it’d only end up being pointless.

“Ah, _fuck_.” He grunts.

His wrist jerks faster as he gets closer and closer, and with a final stroke, Harry finally comes and releases hot, salty pumps of his jizz all over his fist and stomach with a deep groan. 

His chest rises and falls as he takes a second to catch his breath. When his mind clears up, he wipes his abs off with his sheets, grateful enough he’d planned to wash them anyways today. Once he’s done, he throws the dirty sheets aside and lets himself fall back, feeling his cock soften where it lays on his stomach. 

So maybe he was right about his pent up sexual frustration, but that doesn’t mean anything and hopefully now he’ll be able to fully focus on what’s important. 

However, as Harry closes his eyes for those extra five minutes before having to get out of bed, there’s still a part of him that feels antsy under his skin, and maybe jacking off at fuck hours in the morning just wasn’t enough to keep that irritable feeling at bay. 

If there’s one way Harry knows how to get rid of any frustrations, it’s definitely hitting the gym. 

He knows for a fact that ice hockey practice starts a little later today, so he’ll have all morning to hopefully put himself back together before practice. He doesn’t like this weird feeling in his stomach. It feels different than any jitters Harry’s felt before, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. It doesn’t really help that his stress levels continue to rise with each day it gets closer to the start of the season. 

He really needs to let out some steam. 

Harry gets out of bed and goes through the motions of his morning routine. He gets dressed, makes his usual green protein juice, and he’s already feeling like he’s regained his composure when he’s done. But as soon as he opens the front door to leave, Louis’ standing on the other side, holding a small white container with a cup of coffee on top and a surprised look on his face, that falls into a soft smile. 

“Oh, hi,” Louis grins, pushing the container forward in excitement. “I brought you some coffee and some croissants! I wasn’t sure which ones you liked best, so I brought you some plain ones. Is that alright?”

Harry’s still fogged up from earlier, but silently accepts the coffee and the second breakfast. 

“Y-Yeah, thanks,” Harry stumbles. Louis hums as he allows himself inside, but doesn’t make it past the mudroom as his eyes drop down and up on Harry’s attire. He’s surprised to see Harry dressed for the gym and with his gym bag hiked up on his shoulder, as if he was about to leave. 

“You don’t have practice this morning.” Louis notes.

“I know,” Harry says, trying to collect himself, “Just figured I’d hit the gym.”

Louis eyes him suspiciously, “I thought we agreed on gym _after_ practice.”

“Figured I’d go in a little early,” Harry shrugs, feeling too tense to act as nonchalant as he wanted, “Get some rest before practice.”

It’s a lie and both of them know it. Harry swallows dryly as Louis eyes him suspiciously, knowing full well Louis’ seeing right through him. 

_Damn it._

“This isn’t you tricking me in going twice, are you?” Louis squints his eyes. There’s a line of sweat forming on Harry’s forehead as he swallows down his coffee.

“You need to stop hanging out with Richard,” Harry uncomfortably gruffs.

“Okay, that’s it,” Louis decides. “I’m coming with.” 

“What?” Harry furrows his brows.

“I said I’m coming with you,” Louis repeats.

Harry scoffs, “You don’t need to babysit me, I’m just going to the gym.”

Louis seems taken aback for a second, judging by the look on his face, but isn’t here for that attitude. 

“And I wanna go too, what about it?” He raises a brow. 

Harry huffs. The way Louis was acting was making him feel a certain way that he refused to acknowledge.

“Fine,” Harry breathes, “If you insist.”

Harry knows whatever he’ll say won’t convince Louis to let him go on his own. He’s acting a little off, he can tell and Louis hardly stays behind anyways and it’s not because Harry’s acting pissy that he’ll stay behind, at least this time.

“Good.” He says with finality, and he’s out the door before Harry can fight him on it.

Not that Louis would listen to him, anyways. 

\----

It’s very easy for Harry to zone out the world when he’s focused on something. When he’s got a goal in his mind, he can easily flip a switch and solely focus on it until he’s done. He’s been this way ever since he was a kid, and this comes in very handy during ice hockey games, practices, or generally anything that requires a strong amount of focus. 

It also applies to when Harry hits the gym. 

His career requires maintaining a strong physique to be able to handle being inside the rink, so Harry definitely likes to work on his stamina. He’s also one of those weirdos who actually enjoys working out, so any extra hours spent exercising is time well spent for him. 

There’s usually always someone else at the rink’s gym, and Harry gets along with mostly everyone so he stops to have a laugh and let loose, but still, even with his rowdy group of friends, Harry sticks to his gym routine like it’s nothing and is usually unaffected by them. 

Which is why Harry doesn’t understand why Louis being here is meddling with his focus. 

He’s sitting right next to the entrance, laptop on his lap as he works on it. It’s inconspicuous and despite the gym barely having any outsiders, there’s no one distracted by Louis’ presence. Probably because everyone’s pretty used to Harry’s way-too-close PA being around that it’s not a novelty, or a distraction, anymore.

It’s a sight that should distract anyone much, but for some reason, it is to Harry. Even with his music on, he wasn’t able to be transfixed into that focused mindset he can usually get himself into in a matter of seconds. At the treadmill, he kept glancing over, watching how he scrunched his nose as he scrolled types away. He almost tripped when Louis looked up at him, as if sensing his green eyes on him, but Harry narrowly avoids his gaze and likes to think he played it off cool. 

Which he probably didn’t. 

There’s a huge part of him that wishes Yanis never approached him about Louis in the locker room, because now he doesn’t know how to act around him without being painfully awkward and scattered. And it’s not even like he’s got a crush right? Sure, he’s objectively cute and fun to be around, but that doesn’t mean Harry wants to pound him and buy him flowers and chocolate drizzled strawberries every day. 

_Fuck_. He needs to fucking go box or something. 

He drops the halter and puts it in place before going to the boxing area where Dave and Will were chatting idly. He’s not in a mood for a chat. His blood is pumping and he feels jittery and just needs to get it out. 

“Hey, dude, can you box with me?” Harry interrupts without a care. Dave and Will blink and share a look before Will moves away with the promise of continuing their conversation later. Harry gets a random irrationally angry thought that there shouldn't be any parallel conversations in the gym, just working out, but he knows it’s unreasonable as soon as he thinks about it. 

“Okay, yeah.” Dave easily agrees, and thank fuck for that.

Harry puts his boxing equipment on and he’s bouncing on his feet, already itching to start throwing some punches. Dave’s taking his time setting the punching bag up though, so automatically, his mind goes to Louis and he’s got to crane his head a little to be able to see him properly. He vaguely hears Dave talk to him, but Harry barely listens, going in one ear and out of the other as he watches Louis push his fringe out of his eyes. 

“Whenever you’re ready, dude.” He hears, and snaps back into focus, ignoring the quizzical look on Dave’s face.

Fucking finally. The first punch hits right on the side of the bag, harder than Harry should to warm up, but he’s riled up and in need to let off some steam. The following hits go on the same, swift and hard. Harry’s sure he almost knocks Dave out a few times in between.

“The stress getting to you, Styles?” he tries, chuckling.

“Yeah,” Harry huffs, eyes drifting to Louis typing away in the background, unbeknownst to Harry's attitude, “Something like that.” 

Harry strikes the punching bag again, but when he pulls back, he unintentionally glances behind and sees someone approaching Louis. To his utmost dismay, that someone being Logan. Harry throws another punch. 

“Nice one, H.” Dave grunts as he holds the punching bag back. 

He looks again at that scene, how Louis looks up at Logan as he approaches him, surprised at first, but eventually settles into a friendly smile. 

Another punch. 

They’re still talking and when Louis starts giggling, Harry throws a punch without warning, catching Dave by surprise and almost getting him hit. 

“Woah, Styles,” He says, “You good?”

“Ah, fuck. Sorry about that,” Harry means it, he wasn’t paying much attention to Dave, and focusing more on what was happening behind him, but then glances behind again and is reminded of what set him off in the first place. 

Harry sighs, “Can we take five?”

Dave blinks, not expecting Harry to call a break this soon. He doesn’t usually call for random breaks, but Dave decides against pushing it; Harry sounds pissed as is and he wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. 

“Yeah, sure.” Dave says, “I’ll go grab us some waters.”

Harry barely listens as he stomps over to Louis. He zeroes in on the sight and strides across the gym a little faster than he intends, but Louis’ _still_ giggling and he doesn’t want him to be around Logan. No other reason.

“What’s going on here?” Harry asks loudly, cutting between the little giggles.

“Nothing, just having a conversation.” Logan cockily smiles.

Harry frowns. “You should be working out instead of talking.”

“Harry-”

“Jeez calm down styles” Logan chuckles, “I was just taking a break.” He points to his water bottle in hand. It’s practically full, so obviously he didn’t stop what he was doing to get hydrated. He’s hardly broken a sweat too, so Harry thinks he didn’t even do enough to render a break. 

“Breaks over, you can go back to the machines.” Harry glances up and down, “Or start on them.”

“ _Harry_.” Louis hisses. Harry’s still frowning as he glances at Louis. There’s almost a staring competition going on, both of them frowning at each other and silently arguing. Logan curiously eyes the couple before taking a step back, which Harry very much appreciates if he’s being honest.

“Oh, I see what this is,” Logan says.

“There's nothing to see,” Harry spits through grit teeth. 

“I was just making conversation,” Logan raises his hands in defeat, “No need to get all upset, Styles.”

Harry all but growls, and he’s so dead set on being sure Logan fucks all the way off to the other side of the gym, he barely catches Louis standing up, laptop closed and pressed against his chest.

“What’re you-”

“What's _wrong_ with you Harry?” Louis frowns.

“What's wrong?” Harry blinks, “Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

“Yeah!” Louis scoffs. “What the hell were you doing? Can’t I have a conversation with one of your teammates without letting you know, is that it?”

Harry scoffs, “I was doing you a favor, Louis. You don’t need to be talking to Logan about anything. The kid’s a dumbass”

“I don’t need you to do me any favors." Louis scoffs, standing up and starts to walk away.

“Where are you going, Louis?” Harry asks, suddenly worried about him.

“I'm going to go work in your car,” He says, “Since, _apparently_ , I cant talk to anyone.” 

“Louis, that's not what I meant-”

“Just finish your workout.” He cuts him off, “I’ll be in the car.”

Louis doesn't wait around for him before he heads out of the gym. Harry kind of feels like an idiot as he watches Louis go, and realizes they were probably causing a scene despite their hushed whispers. 

Harry lets out a defeated sigh and heads back to the punching bag, where Dave was already there waiting for him with a sympathetic look on his face. 

“Trouble in paradise, eh?”

Harry punches the punching bag instead of replying.

\---

When Harry’s done with his workout, he’s got sweat all over his body and a much clearer head on his shoulders. 

He’s still pissed off that Logan even approached Louis in the first place, and the fact that Louis was so nonchalant and actually giggling with him, when he’s heard Harry’s million rants on him, really does his head in. Even now that he feels more calm and less agitated, it still irks him to think about Louis and Logan getting all buddy buddy together. 

He’s sweating, and though the frustration from earlier had worn off, that stupid run-in with Logan pissed him off, again. He almost feels worse than earlier, if not just as bad. 

This feeling follows him as he heads out to his car, and there’s a million thoughts running through his mind, all with different outcomes of any argument that’s bound to happen with Louis, hardly any of them ending well. There’s a part of Harry that's disappointed he couldn’t manage to have a personal assistant for a month without fighting over pointless things. This never would’ve happened had Logan minded his own fucking business in the first place. 

Harry’s very stubborn, is the thing. He can acknowledge that and maybe he went a little overboard, but he doesn’t regret stopping whatever was happening between Louis and Logan. He knows he did the right thing, Louis doesn’t need that jerk around him, even if it’s for a five minute conversation. Not if he can help it. 

He’s gripping his gym bag tightly over his shoulder as he approaches his car. He can make out the glow of Louis’ laptop blurring through the window and he almost doesn’t want to face him. But he doesn't want to avoid it either. 

Louis barely flinches when Harry opens the backseat door. Harry eyes his assistant as he throws his gym bag in the backseat, watching as Louis types away at his laptop as though Harry wasn’t even there.

Harry sighs and closes the door, getting in the front seat and hating how thick the air is around them. Louis’ still ignoring him as Harry turns on the engine, but Harry notices how he turns his laptop off and shuts it, probably to avoid any motion sickness and not because he wanted to talk to him. 

The ride is awkward and quiet. Not even the low music coming from the radio helped ease the tension. Louis didn't even sing along to any of the pop songs that Harry knows he likes, which can’t be a good sign. 

This shit was just so unnecessarily frustrating. It kind of pisses Harry off how much Yanis got in his head about his assistant, and since then it’s even more frustrating how he can’t seem to let it go. If they never had that stupid conversation then Harry probably wouldn’t of been so on edge lately and none of this would’ve happened.

Well, Harry still wouldn’t want Louis to be speaking to Logan, but that goes for anyone, really. 

Harry keeps glancing to his side, only to see the same thing: Louis leaning back, staring out the window with his arms crossed over his chest. It kind of reminds Harry of their first days together; after the small talk died out, there was nothing to talk about. Except this time, they weren’t strangers anymore and they were both pissed off. 

Starting up any small talk would probably be the worst idea ever, so Harry swallows down anything threatening to come out of his mouth and endures the tense silence. Somehow, it feels louder than if they were actually fighting.

Harry grips the steering wheel tighter with a resigned sigh and speeds down the highway. At this point, he just wants to go back home and forget about all that happened today. Hopefully tomorrow ends up being better for both of them. 

Harry slows down behind a car in traffic when he hears the buzzing noise of a phone call. He thinks it’s his phone for a second, but he remembers he left it in his gym bag, so it could only belong to Louis. His theory confirms itself when he hears Louis fiddle on his seat, before cursing under his breath. He lets his phone buzz, staring at it blankly and Harry’s curious enough to swallow his pride and ask about it in a pitiful attempt at making conversation, but Louis beats him to it. With a sigh, he cowers against the window and picks up the phone, stopping the buzzing altogether. 

With a sigh, Louis cowers against the window and picks up the phone, stopping the buzzing altogether. 

“Hello?” He whispers. Harry’s lucky he’s good at driving because he listens closely to Louis’ conversation while also keeping focus on the road. He also lowers the volume of the radio, simply because he didn't want to distract Louis from his phone call, and no other reason at all. 

“Hey, honey,” Harry hears, “I miss you so much.”

Harry suddenly becomes more interested in Louis’ conversation. He’s not usually this curious but there’s something in Louis’ tone of voice that makes it impossible for him to ignore.

“I can’t really talk right now,” He hears Louis whisper, “I know, I know. I love you too, honey.”

Harry grips the steering wheel tighter as he hears Louis softly giggle, cooing out a few terms of endearment.

“I’ll call you in a minute, okay?”, Louis giggles some more, causing Harry to frown deeper still. “Bye, love you.”

It’s hard to understand who Louis was really speaking to, but there were term of endearments thrown around and Louis was giggling, and it’s not like Harry wants to assume anything, he could be wrong and be making a bigger deal out of this, but his mind wanders and there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach he’s trying desperately to ignore. 

He cranks the music up a bit to fill up how quiet it is in the car. Glancing over at Louis, he watches as he toys with his phone. Whoever was on the other end of that call must’ve been someone important to him, Harry guesses. 

It feels like an eternity, when it’s actually just ten minutes in a thick, tense silence, when Harry finally stops his Range Rover at the entrance of Louis' flat.

The silence is so uncomfortable and it feels worse now that they’ve stopped. He wonders if Louis was going to leave without even uttering a word, and that doesn’t sit right with him. Nothing has been sitting right with him lately, and he’s not sure how much longer he can take with feeling like this. So Harry opens his mouth to say something, but Louis raises a hand, stopping him before he could even start. 

“Loui-”

“Are you still going to act like a child?” Louis asks, brows raised.

So much for an adult, mature conversation. 

Harry scoffs “I wasn’t-“

Louis rolls his eyes and opens the door, “See you tomorrow then, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes bulge in realization, “Louis, wait-'' 

He shuts the door before Harry could finish the sentence and walks into his apartment lobby. There’s a part of Harry that wants to chase him down and talk to him, but he doesn’t want to cause a scene. He knows Louis wouldn’t appreciate it, though. He doesn't seem like the type who likes public confrontations. If Harry can avoid making things worse, then he’ll leave him alone.

So, he just sits in his car and watches as Louis goes inside. There’s something about unresolved issues that really get on his nerves. Harry runs a hand through his hair and lets out a frustrated sigh. His jaw clenches as he checks the time on his car. It’s still early and he knows he’s got his protective gear in the trunk. He’s wound up and irritable all over again and there’s only one way he knows how to let it all out. 

Harry takes the car off park and heads back down to the rink. 

\------

When Harry wakes up, he’s feeling more exhausted than ever. He ended up staying behind in the rink for longer than he anticipated and barely even managed to get his usual eight hours of sleep in, mind muddled with thoughts, specifically thoughts about Louis. 

He spent the entire night mulling over what had happened, from that talk with Yanis, to that stupid confrontation with Logan, to dropping Louis off and not hearing a word from him since then. No updates, reminders, nothing. He must've really rubbed Louis the wrong way if he hasn't even said anything yet.

Harry knows he went a little too overboard. _A lot_ too overboard and he knows it’s purely because of how much he hates Logan, and also because of how stressed out he’s been lately, that’s it. He’s been in a weird funk, a weird headspace and the upcoming season is the only one to fault for that. Nothing or no one else at all. 

Harry’s proud and stubborn as a mule, but he feels uncomfortable with the environment he created between Louis and him. An apology is due, and Harry hopes he won’t avoid him today because he’d like to apologize soon. He feels bad enough as it is.

He picks up his phone from the bedside table and there’s still no text from Louis claiming he’s feeling under the weather, or any text at all so there’s still hope he’ll show up before he leaves for practice. There’s a very slim chance it’ll happen, but regardless, a chance is still a chance no matter what. 

Harry sighs and throws his phone somewhere on his bed. He doesn’t care where it lands, and he throws his sheets off of him, promptly losing it even more.

He showers, gets dressed and bounces his leg as he eats his breakfast. His green juice doesn’t taste as good without Louis gagging beside him as he drinks it. It’s painfully obvious how much of a pretty lonely morning he’s having, for the first time in a while. He’s gotten so used to Louis’ presence, it’s weird to not have anyone rushing him out the door to beat traffic, or telling him off about leaving his dirty socks way too long in his bag, and it’s not something Harry thought he’d be missing. 

Harry's hyperfocusing on the front door, wishing it’d open up and reveal who he wants to see the most. It stays firmly closed, and with a sigh, he takes a long final sip out of his green juice. It almost slips from his grip when he hears a noise come from the door, only to open it and reveal who he had wanted to see the most; Louis. 

He’s not sure what entity to thank for Louis’ presence, but he can barely think too much about it before the smaller one comes into view and Harry’s able to take his whole expression in. 

Louis’ got a very stern and serious glare on, without a sense of familiarity in his features. It almost feels like a different person in the room, and Harry thinks back to when Louis could barely look him in the eye with how nervous he was. It feels like forever ago since then. 

“You're still not ready?” Louis glares at him. 

Harry _was_ ready, he was almost done eating and only had to put his trainers on before being ready to go. His gym bag was already packed with fresh clothes and sitting by the door, but bringing that up doesn’t sound like the best idea ever. 

“Louis-”

“We don’t have all day.” He sternly says, not even bothering to look up from his phone. He’s already standing by the door, tapping his feet impatiently. There’s only one coffee in his hand, designated for Louis given the wrongly spelled name on the side, _Lewis_. 

Louis’ barely been here for five minutes, but Harry can’t take the weird tension anymore. He needs to put a stop to it right now. 

“Louis,” He starts, “I’m really sorry.”

Louis stops in his tracks, turning around and blinking once. Though his face remained unbothered, he stayed put as if he was quietly waiting for Harry to continue. Harry tries to hide his relief that Louis was giving him the time of his day.

“Look,” He starts, now that he’s got Louis’ full attention, “I know what I did yesterday wasn’t right and I’m really sorry I acted like a jerk to you. You can talk to whoever you want, I'm just stressed and don't like Logan at all, and I let out my frustrations on you. I’m really sorry I let my worst side get the best of me, it was never my intention to hurt you.”

There's a beat of silence between them and Harry thinks it’s Louis’ way of telling him to fuck off and that he won’t accept his apology, which he can understand, but definitely won’t take for an answer. He can’t be on bad terms with his assistant this early in the game, or at all, and he’ll do whatever to make things right again. 

“You need to control yourself, Harry,” Louis says, “I understand being stressed out at this point in time, but don’t take it out on me, or on your teammates, like that. You don’t need bad publicity or negative rumours circling around you.”

“Okay, I understand,” Harry nods, “and I'm really sorry, honestly. I shouldn’t have spoken like that to you. I don't like Logan but I can't control who you speak to, and I don’t want to do that either. I’m really sorry.”

There’s a faint smile on Louis’ face that Harry isn’t expecting, but welcomes with no problem at all. 

“Okay, I forgive you,” Louis says, “Apology accepted.”

Harry’s eyes widen in surprise, “Really?” 

“Yes, you goof,” Louis rolls his eyes, “But don’t you talk to me like that ever again, I’ll cut your balls off. And that’s a promise.”

Harry doesn’t think he’s kidding, nor does he want to test that threat out.

“I can work with that,” He says. 

Louis smiles, “Okay let’s go, or else you’re gonna be late and I won’t be the one cutting your balls off.”

Harry laughs as he follows him out. It felt good to be back on good terms again, and Harry’s hoping this wouldn’t change any time soon.

  
\-------

Pre-season time always leaves Harry more stressed out than ever. He feels like he gets worse than when the actual season starts, even if he doesn’t have much to be worried about. However, Harry never likes to get too cocky, since there’s always a slim chance that they might not make it for the season. 

He can’t say it won’t happen, not with how good the teams are this year, but he’s got faith in the Toronto Hawks, and is confident they’re gonna make it through, but it doesn’t lessen his nerves any bit whatsoever. 

His teammates are wise enough to think like him. Anything can happen during an Ice Hockey game so it’s best to just do your best and hopefully good things could happen. And as a team captain, it’s nice to see everyone take the extra mile, even fucking Logan. 

Harry and his team only played their third exhibition so far, and Harry hopes his team is in good enough shape to not need any more than three more games. Harry ended up sitting out on the last exhibition, since he doesn’t really have to play on every single one of them. Coaches are usually more interested in newbies and to figure out which players to bench, and which to keep, so he and a few other teammates were excused.

Still, Harry was always somewhere on the bleachers to check how his teams were doing, and if any swaps were wrongly, or rightly, made. Despite being the team captain, he doesn’t get to call all the shots, but he does make the point of pitching in even when the coach doesn’t ask. It’s all for the benefit of their team though, so Coach Tudor usually lets it slide. 

His coach tells them they’re looking good and there’s only minimal changes to the team so far. Unfortunately, Logan still manages to hang around, which sucks because there’s another player Harry would want on the team this season. Matthew’s been improving ever since he got benched last season, and Harry's got high hopes for him. 

The other good thing about being an established player is that he gets practice time prior to competitive play, which Harry likes to take an extra notch on. He uses every second in the rink wisely and even with this privilege, he still likes to stay a few extra minutes.

A lot of times, Louis’ wouldn’t have the patience to deal with it and would force him back home to rest, but unfortunately Harry has a way with words and he manages to sneak in regardless. He usually cooks Louis a homemade meal as a bribe, which Louis likes to remind him is highly unprofessional and maybe even illegal, but Harry can’t quite understand when he’s got his mouth stuffed with food. 

Although things with Louis have been forgiven, there’s always _something_ in the air, as if Louis had forgiven but not necessarily forgotten. 

As the days dragged on, they were pretty much the same, but there were still moments where Louis had his walls up and kept to himself, and Harry couldn’t blame him. He still regrets ever speaking up like that, no matter the context. It’s worth saying that Logan hasn’t been hanging around Louis at the gym anymore, though, steering out of his way whenever in speaking distance. 

Things got better, better than before and Harry can accept that. Now with the season and his stress levels on steroids, Harry does his best to not take it out on Louis. It’s working so far, and Harry's extra careful around him now. He doesn't want to accidentally make anything worse, so he just shuts up most of the time and uses any negative energy out on the rink or gym so he doesn't unintentionally piss off Louis anymore. Hurting Louis is the last thing he wants to do, anyways. 

To help with loosening up from the stress he’s feeling, Harry decides distracting himself when he gets home is a good idea. Usually, there’s always a game Harry’s watching on TV, whether ice hockey related or not. Since Louis got hired, however, his Netflix subscription has been being used more than ever. It’s nice to get his mind taken off of sports related things for a while and watch a dumb reality show Louis got him addicted to. 

Tonight is no different. Harry’s been frustrated all day, despite his perfect performance. He felt as though there was always something he needed to improve on and, yes, Harry knew overworking himself was a rookie mistake, but he has a reputation to uphold. He only managed to stay behind forty five minutes (which is nothing), before Louis was standing beside the rink’s entrance and pointing at his wrist. It’s a little more embarrassing when he’s got his teammates with him, watching as he does the walk of shame to leave. 

But regardless, Harry feels good about himself. Today's pain is tomorrow's reward and as he drives them back to his house, he ignores the ache on his legs and hopes tomorrow he’ll be feeling better. He always does.

Anyways, Harry figured putting some distance between him and Louis would be a good idea, at least for now. Louis hadn’t put up a fight as he dropped him off at his flat, which would probably be a good thing if Harry wasn’t missing his presence later that evening. He ended up inviting Liam over, as well as a childhood best friend, Niall, for dinner, that’s been overdue for a while. 

“Are you nervous?” Niall asks before he takes a bite out of his veggie wrap.

“I’m always nervous.” Harry says, “You never know what’s gonna happen. You think you’re doing your best, but one bad game gets you off the season.”

“That’s true” Liam agrees, knowing full well how one minor fault could heavily impact the rest of your play. He’s been playing for almost as long as Harry, and got drafted a year after Harry did, so they’ve been close for a while. “There’s always uncertainty and for the most part, you can’t predict what’ll happen. “

“Can’t imagine handling all that pressure.” Niall phews, “Think I'm better off being a computer programmer, if I’m honest.” 

“Yeah, it’s definitely tough,” Harry chuckles, “But you get used to it.”

“You got this. I know I don't know much about ice hockey, but I know you’re good, eh.” Niall assured him, “Maybe you shouldn’t practice as much, but you’re still the best. You got nothing to worry about.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “My practice routine is good as it is.”

Liam and Niall share a look before snorting together. 

“You’re only getting a decent practice schedule because Louis’ there to pull you out of the rink.” Liam mentions knowingly before taking a bite out of his steak. 

Harry scoffs, “That’s not true, Li.”

“Oooh,” Niall coos, “Who’s Louis?”

“You don’t know? Liam grins devilishly, “He’s Harry’s new boyfriend,” Harry glares at him, “Did I say boyfriend? I meant assistant.”

“Liam-”

“What?” Liam smirks, “You’re gonna tell me that I'm wrong?” 

“Yeah,” Harry scoffs childishly, “‘Cause you are.”

“Please, we all see the way you look at him,” Liam says, “See! You're getting all riled up over him!”

“Maybe I need to sneak into your practices more often,” Niall pitches in, which only gets him a glare out of Harry. 

“No, you don’t,” Harry glares at him, “Don’t enable him, Li.”

Liam and Niall ignore him, giggling as they keep talking about Harry’s love life as if he wasn’t even in the room with them, which is none of their business in the first place, in Harry’s opinion.

Harry groans and lets his head fall back against the couch, maybe a movie night alone would’ve been better.

\-----

Harry wakes up to noise coming from his kitchen. 

He squints an eye open to check his alarm clock sitting on the bedside table, and Harry makes out the blurry red numbers to be around 7 in the morning, which is way too early to have someone be making a ruckus downstairs. 

There’s a sense of deja vu in there somewhere, and it takes a minute for Harry’s sleep hazed brain to tie it to Louis’ first day of being his assistant. It feels like forever ago since he started, when in reality, it hasn’t even been that long. There’s something about Louis that makes him feel like he’s known him forever. 

He wonders if it’s Louis making all the noise downstairs, but it’s still too early for him to be here, so maybe not. Unless he’s got some things to talk over, or arrange with him, which Harry doesn’t recall planning. All they really had to do today was head to the final pre-season game and wait until the results came in, and then organize for what's coming next.

Well, Louis’ gonna organize. Harry might go skate for a bit. 

The noise doesn’t settle and it’s reaching a point where Harry can’t even ignore it anymore. He groans into his pillow before pushing his sheets to the side and getting out of bed. He’s still not sure who could be making a commotion downstairs, but his first guess is Richard. His manager does have a tendency of showing up without any prior announcements, and it wouldn’t be the first time if he did, but Harry’s not in the mood to deal with him this early in the morning, so he was hoping it was literally anyone else but him. 

Harry slumps out of bed and yawns as he stretches out his legs. He was still pretty tired from hosting for his friends last night and, if he’s honest, he can’t remember when Niall and Liam left. All he can recall is dozing off on the couch while they were watching a movie and waking up with no sign of them, except for a rushed out note left on the coffee table. Niall’s handwriting wasn’t the best, but the pros of being best mates for so long is being able to understand what he wrote, as well as his horrible attempt at a smiley face with an ice hockey stick drawn on the bottom corner. He’s pretty sure Niall tried to draw some loose teeth there as well, which shouldn’t be as funny as it is. 

He yawns again as he slumps out of his room and down the stairs, and he almost chokes on his own spit when he’s faced with Louis, completely bent over and rummaging through a cabinet, completely unaware of Harry’s presence and how fucking good his ass looks like that. 

Harry’s convinced he must be dreaming, still. 

“Good morning to me,” Harry whistles.

“ _Shit_ ,” Louis snaps up and almost hits his head on the countertop. “Jesus, Harold. Don’t fucking scare me like that, _God_.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to,” Harry grins as he leans against the counter beside the smaller one. 

Louis’ grumbling something under his breath that Harry can’t quite make out, but he’s more interested in the ruckus Louis’ making on this ungodly hour of the day. 

“Looking for something?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes, I wanted to make us breakfast,” Louis huffs, “But your kitchen is so disorganized, God. You’re such a slob, sometimes.”

Harry snorts to himself as he watches Louis give up on the bottom cabinet and get on his tippy toes to try and reach the cabinet above. 

“Need any help?” Harry offers after painfully watching him struggle to even get the tip of his finger to reach a plate. 

“No, I’m fine,” Louis grumbles, “I just need to-”

He pushes himself up on top of the counter and after a moment of more of Louis cluttering around in Harry’s cabinets, he comes out with a reasonably sized pan and a grin of success paired with it. 

“See! I told you I could do it!” Louis says as he hops back down, “But we’ll have to do something about this kitchen, there’s really no need to keep necessary items that high up.”

“I can reach just fine,” Harry interjects, and it’s hard to keep the grin out of his face by the way Louis glares at him. 

“Just hand me over the eggs,” Louis murmurs.

Harry does just that, and he can’t help but think how awfully domestic this all feels like. Louis’ barefoot in his kitchen, starting up some breakfast for them while Harry leans against the counter. They talk easily to each other and it feels nice and very domestic.

“My mum sent me this hilarious video of her cat, you have _got_ to see it.” Harry grins, “Wait, let me just grab my phone.”

Harry leaves for a second, jogging up the stairs to unplug his phone, and he’s already cracking up at the paused video but he notices a shift in the kitchen's vibe. 

Louis’ pushing his food around on his plate, looking down and any remnants of giggles basically evaporated from his face. 

“Lou? Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale,” He inquires worriedly. 

Louis blinks, “Huh? Yeah, I'm fine - sorry,” He shakes his head, “Just...it’s nothing.”

“You sure?” Harry quirks his eyebrows, funny cat video long forgotten. 

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine,” Louis forces a smile, “Just… come finish your food, it's getting cold. I might throw up if you don't finish this green juice.”

It’s very hard for Harry to simply ignore Louis’ obvious change in mood. He was gone for a minute, at most, and coming back to see him like this worried him. Still, he didn’t want to make Louis upset or cross any boundaries that might make him feel worse, so Harry does the next best thing.

He puts his hand over Louis’, holding it tight and squeezing for reassurance. 

“You’ll be fine,” Harry assures him, “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

Louis’ sober lips curve on the ends genuinely and he squeezes his hand back in appreciation. They sit in a moment of silence, but Harry figures he ought to take Louis’ mind off whatever was bothering him and starts talking about how Niall accidentally spilled beer on his crotch last night and how it looked like he peed himself. Louis giggled, and Harry was glad to put a genuine smile back on his face. 

By the time they’re done eating and finished cleaning up their plates, they’re right on time to head out to the last pre-season game. 

“So, which arena are we heading to?” Harry asks as they walk over to his car. 

“Uhh,” Louis’ scrolling through his phone, looking through his little notebook and acting a little too scattered. “The Blitz Arena”

Harry doubtfully raises his brows, “Are you sure? That’s an almost two hour drive from here.”

Normally, pre-season try outs aren’t that far off from each other. The most Harry’s travelled for tryouts was an hour away, and only because he got stuck in traffic as well. He’s got a feeling that’s not the right rink he needs to be at, but Louis’ the one handling his schedule and organizing everything for him, so there’s no real reason to be doubting him, despite his odd mood. 

“Yes, I'm sure,” Louis insists, clearly ticked off. 

“Okay…” Harry backs down, “Let’s go, then.”

Harry starts the car silently, heading into an awkwardly long and tense car ride.

\--

The drive to the arena was smoother and faster than what Harry anticipated. They got there in an hour and a half, which was good. Louis still seemed a little off, though. 

Harry could tell something was off with Louis and he spent most of the drive mentally debating himself whether or not he should bring it up again. He glanced over at him every now and then, and he hated how visibly upset Louis clearly was. It’s almost as if he had a permanent frown attached to his face, and it wouldn’t lessen even as he stared out the window or when he’d be manically messing with his phone. 

Louis’ phone buzzed over the low music coming from the radio, but after the first time Louis immediately shut Harry down when he mentioned he could pick up the call if he wanted to, Harry stuck to being tight lipped every time Louis’ phone buzzed a little louder. 

The parking lot behind the arena was mostly empty, but given how early they were, Harry didn't think any of it. He was pretty used to being the first one in, and the last one out, anyways. 

“Do you want to stay in the car?” Harry cautiously asks.

Louis silently shakes his head, which is more than what he’s said during the entire ride. 

Wordlessly, Louis gets out of the car as Harry gets his bag from the trunk, hiking it up on his shoulder before heading inside the arena. Louis wanders behind him, eyes locked to the screen of his phone. Harry has to warn him not to trip on the uneven path to the entrance, which he manages to dodge last minute.

“I think I've only played here about four or five times,” Harry muses. Louis hums behind him, too focused on scrolling through his phone to hear him properly. “It’s been a while, probably a couple years maybe? I mean, not counting last week’s tryouts, but I didn’t even play for those, so it doesn’t count.”

Playing in different arenas was no issue for Harry. The rinks were all the same, though some more lavish than others, but Harry’s aware he’s just filling up noise to put his mind off the restlessness he’s feeling about playing the last pre-season game and probably the most important one. It’s the game before the actual season starts and though Harry can’t fucking wait to finally get back on the rink, any slip up can have huge consequences on the whole team, and it’s hard to not let himself fall into a rabbit hole of ‘what ifs’ when he’s got so much to lose, by now. 

“Uh, Harry?” He hears Louis say. 

“Excuse me, you two,” A security guard calls out for them, making Harry stop in his tracks and Louis bumping on his back, “What’re you doing here? You’re not part of the Whitby Dunlops, are you?”

“No,” Harry frowns, “We’re here for the pre-season tryouts?”

The security frowns, “Sorry, what team are you in?”

“Toronto Hawks.”

The security eyes them with confusion, “That was last week.” 

Harry freezes, “Sorry, what? _Last week?_ ”

Harry turns to look at Louis, but the smaller one has his head lowered to avoid his gaze. He’s standing tense and still, and gripping his phone to his chest so tightly. Harry’s quick to put two and two together and realize how Louis must’ve accidentally mixed up his schedule. 

“Right, sorry about that,” Harry ushers to the security, “We’ll be going now, thanks.”

The security sends them off with a sympathetic look, and now it suddenly makes a whole lot of sense how the parking lot was basically empty. That never would’ve happened had this been the right arena. 

Harry silent for a second, muttering over and over in his head all his frustrations due to this mistake. He hears Louis whimper under his breath as he trails behind him, leaving a safe distance between them. Harry’s upset, sure, but being angry won’t solve anything. 

“Where’s the right place, Louis?” Harry asks. 

“It’s the Pioneer Centre.”

Harry almost wants to groan. It’ll take at least an hour to get to the other arena and no doubt, he’ll miss out at least the first half of practice, which definitely doesn’t do him any wonders. 

“Alright,” He breathes, “Let’s go, then.”

“I'm so sorry, Harry,” Louis whimpers, and he sounds like he’s on the edge of breaking down in tears. Harry’s pissed, obviously. He’s pretty adamant on his pre-practice routine and being late means he’s got less time to warm up, which could end up in a shitty game. But Louis’ feeling bad enough already and he doesn’t want to waste any more time here and making him feel worse. It’s not worth it.

“It’s okay. Let’s just get going.” He decides. He unlocks his car and throws his bag back inside of the trunk. Louis’ in the car before Harry is, seat belt on and legs tucked tightly together and sitting as close to the window as he can. He doesn’t even move a muscle as Harry starts the drive. 

The music is low between them and there’s hardly much traffic around here, and there’s a slim chance Harry won’t be embarrassingly late if he keeps going the speed he’s at. His eyes are on the road ahead, but suddenly he hears sniffles coming from Louis. 

“Louis? Are you-” He quickly glances as his curled up form, “ What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I'm fine,” he sniffs. Clearly he isn’t fine, and hasn't been fine since this morning. 

“Louis, don’t worry about what happened just now,” Harry calmly says, “This shit happens sometimes, it’s alright. We’re going to the right place now.”

Harry’s not sure what he expected Louis to say back, but he certainly isn’t expecting him to let out a sob. It’s painful to hear, and he’s taken by surprise by Louis’ sudden outburst, but it shows how there was obviously something bothering him. Louis’ made mistakes before and handled those pretty well, no tears or nervous breakdowns at all, which leads to Harry believing this must be something really serious. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Harry assures him, “You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” he cries. “S’just...” Louis sniffs, “Family things.”

It’s the first time Louis actually opens up about his problems and there’s a selfish part of Harry that wishes he wasn’t driving right now, just so he could offer him more than a worried glance here and there to avoid any accidents from not keeping his eyes on the road. 

Despite them being on good terms, and have known each other well enough to be more comfortable than a strictly professional thing, Louis has been very firm on keeping his personal side behind a wall. He’s hardly revealed much about himself other than the basics, and Harry’s accepted it. He gets it, Louis was adamant on keeping things this way for purely professional reasons, and Harry respected that decision and strayed away from more personal questions, even if they itched at the back of his throat. 

He wasn’t expecting Louis to open up to him anytime soon, so this is all very new and definitely takes Harry by surprise. 

He can’t do this like this, though. There’s obviously something hurting Louis’ soul, and fuck it. Harry’s already late as it is. He checks behind him and luckily there isn't anyone close to him in his lane, so Harry signals to the side and slows down the car until he’s pulled over on the brim of the highway. 

“What’re you doing?” Louis sniffs.

“Making sure you’re okay.” Harry says with finality. 

“Harry, you dumbass,” He whimpers, “Yes, I'm fine! You’re gonna be late, please. Don't worry about me, you dolt.”

“I can't help it!” He says, “Can't see you like this.”

“Look,” Louis sniffs, “Don't mind me, okay? It's just…I just miss my family and things are happening that I’m missing out on and that's it, alright? Nothing worth pulling over in the middle of the fucking highway, _God_.”

Harry feels bad for him. He knows what it’s like to be away from his family for a long period of time, and he wants to comfort him, reassure him that whatever he’s feeling, will get better soon. He doesn’t want to push anything since Louis doesn't look like he wants to have that conversation, so he does the next best thing. 

Harry takes a hold of his hand.

“Whatever it is you’re going through, I got you.” He assures him,“You can talk to me, Louis. You don’t have to go through this alone, okay?”

Louis squeezes his hand, looking at him through his glazed baby blues.

“Okay.”

That’s good enough for him. Harry sighs in relief and doesn't let go of his hand, even as he speeds down the highway.

\-----

Being on time to warm up was out of the question, but by the time they reached the right arena, Louis wasn’t crying anymore, which made stopping in the middle of the highway completely worth it. Even if Louis was still desolate, at least having him know that Harry was there for him was enough and he doesn’t regret taking the time to be there for him. 

His coach wasn’t too happy with his tardiness, but luckily, Harry’s got enough charm to get on his good side again and let Harry in the rink for the second half, even without any warm ups on ice. He was given the opportunity to sit this one out, since he didn’t need to play if he didn’t want to, but Harry’s not one to pass a chance like this.

Before he swaps into his full equipment, Harry and his coach talk about who he’s thinking of swapping and after exchanging input, Harry's mostly happy with the answers he gets. It’s still too early for any final decisions, but he’s got no complaints yet. 

As Harry finally gets on ice, though his head’s on the game, his heart is on Louis. Every now and then, he looks away from the game and glances over to the sidelines to check up on him from afar, and he’s always met with the sight of Louis busying himself on his phone. 

After all that happened today, Harry wasn’t sure he was just playing games to get through a boring practice. He was hoping he was, though, at least to distract himself from what was bothering him.

He’s a huge sudoku fan, apparently, and since Harry found out about this, he’s been giving him little booklets to keep him entertained. He doesn’t quite understand how to play, but Louis sat down with him one time, a little too close and practically on his lap and tried to explain, but it ended up being fruitless. 

Harry might’ve been a little too distracted to fully focus, and Louis eventually gave up and forced Harry to make him dinner. 

Practice eventually finishes and after a quick talk with his teammates and running in with their coach, Harry’s pretty happy with what their teams are gonna look like for the season. There’s nothing set in stone for now, but with how things are looking, it seems like they’ve got great players on their line up and Harry couldn’t be happier. He’s glad this part is over, now, so now the real games could start. 

Harry looks up at the bleachers, but Louis isn't sitting on the sidelines anymore, and after looking around and trying to spot him, Harry sees him standing next to the entrance, looking visibly worried while calling Harry over. 

“What's wrong?” Harry asks him when he’s close enough, then lowers his voice, “Are you okay? Did something…”

“Uh, Richard called,” Louis discloses, biting his lip, “Says he wants a meeting at seven.” 

Harry’s eyes widen. Last time he checked the clock, it marked six thirty in the afternoon, and the drive to Richard's office is at least forty five minutes. Harry’s still got his gear on, so there’s no way in hell they’d get there on time.

“Seriously?” Louis nods, and Harry groans, “Did he at least say why?”

“No, nothing,” 

This feels like a set up, as if Richard did this on purpose, and Harry knows he’s screwed without even knowing why. Richard does play by his own rules, and Harry’s used to it, but he’s also well aware that an impromptu meeting, forty minutes away, and without even explaining why could never be a good thing. 

“Okay,” Harry sighs, mentally preparing himself for the unknown, “Let’s go then.” 

There’s no way to avoid this. It’s never a good idea to purposely ignore his managers requests, especially meeting requests, no matter how random they are. He’s known Richard long enough to know what he’s like, and how he lets him know he’s pissed, and right now is proving to be exactly that, and Harry’s not the least bit excited for it. 

Harry undresses in record time, and slips back his gym clothes on, but he only realizes his grey shirt is inside out when Louis meekly lets him know. He’s out of fucks to give, so he leaves it as it is and silently heads to his car. Harry barely puts his seatbelt on before they take off and head to the last place both of them would want to be at. 

\-----

“It’s probably nothing,” Louis whispers as they walk up the office.

“Yeah, nothing.” Harry agrees, though he’s not completely sure of it. 

They reach Richard’s office, the furthest one down the hall, and Harry knocks on the door three times before a voice on the other side lets them in. Louis looks anxious as Harry turns the handle, entering the room, and he’s pretty sure he hears him hold in a breath. 

“You called?” Harry asks.

“You’re late,” Richard says, without looking up.

Harry rolls his eyes, “I’m here now.”

“Louis,” Richard sighs, “Can you go get me a coffee or something. Just…give us a minute here.” 

Louis gulps and nods, looking visibly nervous and Harry can’t help the pang in his chest that feels for him. It worsens when Louis accidentally bumps into the doorframe as he leaves the room, blushing deeply as he closes the door behind him. 

“Ugh,” Richard groaned as he heard the door click shut, “He’s a piece of work, huh?”

Harry hums vaguely, only half listening, until he realizes what Richard said, and does a double take. “What do you mean?”

Richard scoffs, as though he were exasperated. “What, you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed? He’s a trainwreck!”

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” Harry frowns.

Richard threw his hands up, standing up and pacing the floor. “First of all - he’s so... _nervous_ all the time. It was understandable when he first began, but now it’s just- irritating! Not to mention, his nerves seem to get ahead of his work quality. He didn’t even ask me what I wanted in my coffee! A good assistant would’ve known better to ask, and he didn’t.”

Harry’s eyebrows scrunched together at the strangely specific complaint, thinking it was hardly fair of Richard to think Louis could remember every detail, especially after the horrible day he'd had. 

“Secondly - disobeying my orders! It was specific in my agenda to not let you practice too hard so you don’t overwork yourself. Since Louis was hired - I swear you’ve been to the rink more often than ever! A simple task, I swear…”

Harry’s rage was slowly beginning to build inside of him, not liking the way Richard was talking about Louis at all. Most of the time, it’s just Harry being a stubborn shit and doing whatever he wanted, with Louis trailing along. He takes full responsibility for that, but by the way Richard’s speaking, he wouldn’t want to hear any excuses, and he’s too self absorbed and distracted by his own speech to recognize the frown on Harry’s face as he went on. 

“And then, of course, he’s disorganized! Please don’t tell me you already forgot about when he took you to the wrong arena two hours away. You nearly missed practice because of that- you could’ve missed the whole game!”

_How the fuck did he find that out._

A small moment of silence lapsed between them as Harry silently simmered with a growing rage and Richard came down from his completely insane little rant. Harry swore, if Richard says one more thing…

“I think I should fire him,” Richard declared. Harry’s head snapped up. “This amount of unprofessionalism-”

“Stop!” Harry rudely cuts him off, “You’re not going to fucking fire him! He’s the best assistant I’ve had so far and you’re not letting him go for those stupid reasons.”

Richard scoffs again, but Harry’s had enough and won’t let up until Richard realizes how absurdly he’s acting. 

“Louis’ incredibly efficient and extremely organized,” Harry continues, “Just because he slipped up once, doesn’t mean he needs to be fired. I won’t let you, Richard. He’s amazing at his job and if that’s all you wanted to discuss, then I think we’re done here.”

Richard doesn’t look too happy, but Harry really isn’t the mood for these petty, childish games. Rolling his eyes, he gets up with all the intentions of leaving and forgetting about all this pointless shit. What a waste of his time.

“We’ll talk when you get over yourself,” Harry mutters. 

Harry roughly opens the door and lets it shut behind him as he fucks off out of Richard’s office, and he’s so bothered by their conversation that he almost doesn’t see the smaller figure standing out the door, with two coffees in hand. 

“Oh, fuck,” Harry swears as he saves himself from bumping into Louis. 

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I-” Louis blabbers. 

Harry shakes his head, and moves to walk away, “We’re leaving, Lou.” 

Louis blinks, standing still on his spot, “But what about-?”

Groaning, Harry turns back to grab the styrofoam cup from Louis’ grip and taking a sip out of it, ignoring the way Louis’ eyes widen. 

“Harry-”

“Just forget it,” Harry stops him, “Let’s just go.”

Louis opens his mouth as if he were about to say something, but ends up swallowing his words and following Harry out of the building. 

Harry wanted to storm out of there faster, but Louis was practically jogging behind him trying to keep up. Slowing down, they walked side by side in a pace Louis could match without straining his legs too much. 

Harry’s never been so happy to leave Richard’s office. He can’t fucking wait to go home and forget about all this. 

“Harry.” Louis meekly calls from behind him. Harry looks over his shoulder to find Louis blushing, looking away. Harry’s anger from earlier dissipates completely. He stops in his tracks, him and Louis in the middle of a hallway with no one around them. 

“Yes?” He asks.

“Did you...did you mean all of that?” Louis blushes.

Harry furrows his brows, “Mean what?”

Louis swallows dryly, “What you said to Richard...about me.”

_Oh._

“Yeah, Lou,” Harry takes a step closer, “Every single word.”

Louis looks away for a moment, cowering into himself, appearing smaller.

“Thank you Harry,” Louis looks up at him, with a hint of the most genuine smile Harry’s ever seen, “For everything.”

Harry brings him into a hug without saying anything, and he thinks he might’ve crossed some sort of boundary without taking a second thought, but then Louis’s got his arms around his shoulders and his face pressed against Harry’s heart and everything feels okay. 

And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

\---

Harry spends the next few days glued to his phone. After the last preseason game, there’s usually a day or two before the final teams get picked and those few extra days put an unnecessary stress over Harry that he would much rather do without. 

He usually distracts himself by watching a movie, working out, or catching up with friends during the small free time he has before the hectic season starts. This time, however, he has Louis’ company which unsurprisingly, makes up for a great time. 

Still, even with all the time they’re spending together, Louis refuses to partake in any working out with Harry. 

“I just look better hanging out on the couch,” Louis shrugs, “That’s all.”

It’s not exactly a lie, but Harry won’t give him that satisfaction just yet.

“Suit yourself, then,” Harry shrugs. “I’ll be outside.”

Harry’s got his own mini version of a gym at home, but it’s a lovely day outside and perfect for some workouts in his garden. He slides the window open so that he’s able to see Louis. Louis waves at him through the window as he sips on his tea. Smiling, Harry waves back. 

He plucks his headphones in and after picking his workout playlist, he sets his phone down on the yoga mat and begins his warm up by stretching out his limbs, and kicking his knees up on the spot to start. 

He’s in the middle of holding a plank pose when his music suddenly stops and his ringtone starts chiming. Harry glances at his phone on the edge of the mat, and as he sees Richard’s name, he lets himself fall to the mat under him with a grunt and picks up the call.

“Hello?”

Harry’s eyes widen, as does his grin, and he barely ends the call before he’s picking himself up and running inside his house. Louis startles as Harry suddenly dashes into the room.

“What’s all this-” 

“The Hawks made it!” Harry beams, “We’re playing this season, Lou!”

“Harry! That’s so-” Louis gets cut off as Harry easily picks him up and hugs him close to his body. “Harry, put me down! You’re all sweaty and gross, my _God_.”

“Don’t think I will,” Harry grins, bringing him closer and laughing when Louis fake gags. Still, his legs instinctively wrap around Harry’s waist as he hugs him back. 

“You’re lucky I can’t hurt you, or else you’d be screwed,” Louis grumbles in his ear.

“I know, Lou,” Harry smiles, “I know.”

\-----

It’s a relief to finally get his much anticipated phone call, and find out his team passed with the exact players Harry wanted and he can perfectly envision how this season is going to go for them. He sees win after win for them, and he almost tastes the Stanley Cup trophy right in his hands. 

But being on a roll is not an excuse to completely relax. If anything, it’s time to work twice as hard. Nothing should be taken for granted, since other teams have been being good as well. So that’s why Harry was at the rink at the crack of dawn after a night of partying. 

Obviously, after finding out they made it, his whole team went out for drinks to celebrate the start of the season. They went to a local pub they usually go to and everyone always had a drink in their hand.

Niall came with Harry since he’s friends with a lot of the team already, but Louis decided against coming. Harry sort of wanted him to be there but Louis insisted on staying back and he wasn’t about to push it. He ended up texting him a bunch that night, which ended up in his teammates asking way too many questions and cracking up a lot of awful jokes.

“Whatever Yanis told you,” Harry grumbles, “It’s not true.”

No one really believed him, and it got to the point where Harry felt it wasn’t even worth it to argue back. 

To distract himself, Harry figures he might as well have a good time if he’s out tonight. Choosing to not think about it too much, he orders a round for the whole team. Maybe if everyone gets shitfaced, they’ll stop asking him dumb questions, and he won’t be too sober to get a headache out of them. 

Through whoops of laughter and cheers for Harry’s sacrifice, everyone gathers around his table as the drinks arrive. 

“How about a toast from our team captain?” He hears someone shout.

“Here’s to winning!” Harry cheers. The bar fills with sound for a moment as everyone cheers along.

It’s gonna be a great season, Harry knows it.

\----

The thing about being a professional athlete is that it involves a lot of travelling. Like, _a lot_ of travelling. Harry’s been travelling for years now but he can never get used to it, probably since they move around a lot and hardly have the time to stay in one place for longer than three days, at most. It isn’t necessarily a bad thing, because travelling a lot implied winning games and playing in the season, and Harry can handle jet lags and sleeping in a bus if it meant taking home victory after victory.

Harry likes to travel, just as much as the next guy, but generally speaking, he prefers to drive to places. He’s done most of his road trips with Niall and some of their friends and those memories are ones Harry cherishes a lot. He hasn’t gone on a trip like that in a while, but maybe when the seasons’ over he could do something like this again, for the old times sake. 

Anyways, their first game of the season is an hour away and Harry’s already counting down the hours until he’s got to be on that bus to leave. He’s got his bags all packed and ready to go, which are mostly just sweatpants, his protective gear and any other miscellaneous items Harry’s used to bringing with. Things like a book he probably won’t finish reading and an extra set of headphones in case his ones mysteriously disappeared in the middle of the season. 

He’s learnt not to bother with fancy clothes and bringing things that would just end up taking space in his suitcase. Bus rides can be long and uncomfortable after a while, so his bags are mostly gym clothes and old t-shirts he’d outgrown, but still loves them enough to wear them. 

After so many years and so many seasons, Harry thinks he’s mastered the art of packing for an interminable amount of time, and seeing his bags sitting by his front door, ready to go, make it all seem so real and Harry can’t fucking wait to get on those rinks and do what he does best. 

Louis even came over to help him pack, but he ended up just hanging out in his living room and catching up on some Netflix show that’s been his newest obsession. Something about rich australian moms and their newborn babies. 

Harry goes to bed earlier than usual, equally excited for tomorrow and exhausted after getting ready to leave for the next day. He’s out like a light as soon as his head hits the pillow, dreaming of trophies and pretty blue eyes. 

He’s up early the following morning, and as he rises out of bed, he’s got a thrill rushing through him, giving him an energy boost for the day ahead of him. He sings in the shower and does his dad dance moves as he gets dressed. He’s clearly very excited. 

Louis isn’t here this morning to send him off properly, but he does fill up Harry’s phone with texts all ranging from ‘good luck :)’ and little anecdotes about his morning routine to make up for it. He’s also on his way to their first location, but he couldn’t be on the team’s bus, so he had to find another way to get there, and since Louis’ great at planning ahead, he got it covered before Harry brought it up. 

Harry smiles to himself as he reads through the texts, chuckling at Louis’ replies to his messages, before a car arrives to take him to where the bus with his whole team is at. He pockets his phone to shake the drivers hand and helps him put all his bags in the trunk. He’s not exactly packing lightly. 

He makes polite small talk with the driver, and texts Louis when the silence falls in the car, and soon enough, Harry’s reached his destination. He thanks the driver and slips him a hefty tip before grabbing his bags and steering over to where a few of his teammates were hanging about. He immediately spotted Liam, who usually had the tendency of being the last on to arrive. 

“Hey, dude,” Liam fist bumps Harry as he nears, “Ready to go?”

“Hell yeah,” Harry grins, “I call window seat!”

\--------

The bus ride was longer than what Harry had expected, but it was hardly an issue at all. He spent most of the time bantering with his friends, and texting Louis here and there. Everyone was pretty excited for the start of the season, so the vibes were great in the bus and they were all just having a good time before getting to their first destination. 

Louis, on the other hand, given his texts, was completely bored out of his mind. He gets nauseous if he reads during car rides, so he can’t even fill up his time with a book, or a sudoku. He can’t get himself to sleep in moving cars either, no matter how comfortable they are. Instead, all he manages to do is listen to music and send texts that make Harry smile every time he glances down at his phone. 

Soon enough, the bus makes its stop at the hotel the team was staying at, and as Harry gets off the bus, he spots Louis at the entrance, along with a few other people Harry recognizes as other PA’s. 

“Hey, Lou,” Harry smiles, “How was your trip?”

“Exotic,” He says, “And yours?”

Harry raises his brows, “Looks like it was awful compared to yours.”

“You’ll live,” He shrugs with an easy smile. 

Louis hadn’t been waiting for long, but in the meantime, he managed to check them into their shared hotel room. All Harry knew about this place was that they’d be staying in a suite and there were three different pools, plus a full spa experience, that Louis was definitely very excited about.

He figured that much considering how Louis went on about it as they made their way up in the elevator, and mentioned something about bringing a few different swimsuits along. He couldn’t choose which ones to bring and which ones to leave behind, but Louis revealed how he never got to travel much before, and now that he’s got the chance, he’ll take advantage of it instead of being cooped up in the hotel room all day while Harry’s out practicing. 

Suddenly, Harry gets this huge urge to go swimming with Louis. The thought of being in a hot tub or a pool with Louis was way too good to resist, and as he keeps talking about the indoor pool, Harry can’t help but picture Louis in that pool, climbing up those stairs, swim trunks hugging his hips, completely dripping wet and-

 _Chill out, Harry_ , He inwardly mutters to himself. 

Although Harry wanted to enjoy the pool privileges with Louis, he also had to remember what he’s here for, and it’s definitely not for a vacation. In fact, Harry even had plans to check out the gym before heading down to the rink. He’d been sitting around all day and he’s really in the mood to stretch out his legs and work in a bit of a practice. He’s overhead some teammates who were planning on doing the same, but even if they weren’t, Harry’s probably going there anyways. 

Louis swipes the room card while Harry tries to keep his pile of luggage from falling over, and offers no help as he walks into the room, completely bewildered by it and ignoring Harry’s grunts in the background as he pushes his bags inside.

“Wow!” Louis gasps as he looks around, “This room is gorgeous!”

“Yeah,” Harry huffs, throwing his last bag inside before closing the door behind him, “It’s something.”

Louis curiously walks around the room, feeling the leather couch and rummaging through the little fridge while Harry attempts to put his bags to the side and in a way that wasn’t completely blocking the door. All of a sudden, Louis’ running past him, into the first room and assessing both beds before he eventually throws his petite self right on top of the biggest, comfiest bed he could find. 

“I call dibs on this one!” 

Harry's positive both beds are the same, but Louis seems content in thinking the other bed is considerably smaller and less comfortable, and he’s not about to burst his little bubble. Harry just chuckles at Louis’ getting himself all nice and snug in bed, before leaving him be and rummaging through his bag to get some workout clothes.

Louis’ still cuddled with a pillow when Harry gets out of the bathroom, fully changed into his workout gear and he looks so peaceful, Harry almost doesn’t want to bother him. 

“Alright, Lou. I’m going down to the gym, you coming with?

He’s not surprised when Louis outright rejects his lovely offer, he wouldn’t accept it either if he was that comfortable in bed.

“M’gonna take a nap,” Louis yawns, “Wake me up before you’re going to the rink though, m’kay?”

“Are you sure?” Harry tentatively asks, knowing full well Louis doesn’t like to be disturbed during his naps. 

“Yeah,” Louis sighs contentedly as he nuzzles into his pillow. Harry swallows dryly at the sight 

“I, uh, well,” He stutters, “I’ll...be back soon.”

Louis mumbles out something Harry can’t quite decipher, but he’s out of the room before he can ask. 

Seeing Louis like that, all warm and comfortable, shouldn’t be doing things to Harry, but it’s a sight that sticks to his head even as he reaches the gym. He just, Louis looked so pretty and content and Harry wouldn’t exactly mind being that pillow Louis was nuzzling on. 

Truth be told, Harry doesn’t know where the hell they stand. He might be getting too in his head on this one, too wrapped up in what everyone's been saying about him and Louis, but the more time they spend together, the more Harry wants to be around him, and God, his _thoughts_. Each day, those stupid scenarios in his head worsen and it’s becoming harder to keep his cool around him. 

There’s no more awkwardness or any tense feeling in the air ever since Harry stood up to Richard, but neither of them bring up the fact that they’ve been more touch-y with each other, be it hand holding or sitting a little too closely on the couch. Harry finds himself minding less about it each day.

Harry walks into the gym already sweating a little. He’s holding his water bottle a little too tight as well and he figures there isn’t a better time to work off some steam by hitting the gym for a while. 

It’s nice and filled with all the necessary equipment for Harry’s routine. It’s not too packed either, and no one’s approaching him, so Harry’s able to go through his work out routine without an issue. He’s come across plenty of Ice Hockey fans before in all sorts of places, and by now, he’s able to tell the warning signs of someone invasive and quite rude. Being polite to people who support him is no issue at all for Harry. It’s always nice to meet fans, but Harry would much rather have a conversation when he’s not sweating balls and in the middle of pulling up weights. 

He goes through the motions of his workout smoothly, occasionally taking water breaks with Felix and David until he’s done with his routine and sweating from every corner. He definitely needs a shower, but decides against using the gym’s locker room and heading straight for his room.

When he returns, Louis’ still laying exactly how he left him, except now, he’s breathing softly and most likely slipped away in his dreams. He definitely wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t sleep earlier. 

Harry leaves him be and goes to rinse off all the sweat that piled up from this workout. He’s out a few minutes later and feeling less icky. He’s also not expecting to see Louis sitting up on his bed, stretching and unintentionally bringing his shirt up to expose his lower stomach. 

“Hi,” Harry swallows, trying to divert his gaze from the sliver of skin, “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Louis lazily nods, “Are we going to the rink now?”

“You can always stay behind if you want,” Harry offers, “Go down to the pool, maybe enjoy the spa while I’m gone.”

“No,” Louis grumbles, standing up, “I want to go with you. Need to do my job.”

It makes more sense now why Louis was so adamant on going with him, instead of hanging back and lounging at the pool for the rest of the day. He already got on Richard's bad side, and he’s clearly trying to overcompensate. 

“Louis,” Harry murmurs, “It’s okay, you really don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“But I do,” He insists. 

Anything Harry says about that, about Louis’ being too hard on himself because of what happened with his manager, goes in one ear and out of the other, so Harry decides against pushing it and instead, just grabs his bag with his gear and leaves with Louis by his side. 

A cab arrives shortly for them and though it’s not a long ride to the rink, Louis' knee still bounces nervously the entire time. 

“You’ll be fine,” Harry assures him. Louis grimaces back, not entirely believing him but accepting it nonetheless. 

The arena looks massive from the outside and the inside is just as impressive. Louis’ a lot more blown away than Harry is and he can’t blame him. 

There’s more people skating and sitting on the bleachers than Harry had anticipated, but it’s not an issue for him. He sees some of his own teammates in there as well, so it’s not him against the other team. It wouldn’t be all too bad, even if they’re opposite teams, Harry’s known some of these guys for quite some time, enough to be good friends with all of them. 

That doesn’t mean he won’t beat them in their first game, though. 

“I’ll be on the bleachers,” Louis says, “Try not to overwork yourself, alright?”

There’s a deeper meaning to what Louis’ asking of him and Harry feels a pang of guilt punch him right on his stomach. Louis wasn’t even to blame about his tendency to practice a little longer than most, it was all him and he knows Louis’ attributing it all to himself, when that shouldn’t be the case. Harry’s just stubborn and knows how to amp up his charm, but it’s backfired, and Louis’ walking on eggshells.

“I’m sorry, Lou,” Harry apologizes.

“It’s alright,” He smiles, “Just don’t get hurt, will you?”

Harry matches his smile, “I’ll try my best.”

\--

As soon as Harry’s skates hit the rink, he decided to leave anything non ice hockey related at the door. He needed to focus, and though he’s got a lot on his mind right now, it wouldn’t benefit him to get lost in his thoughts in the middle of practice, or at any time he’s in the rink. It’s not the place to get distracted, and Harry sticks to it. 

In fact, he’s so committed to the first practice round, that he only relaxes when he needs a quick water break. He calls for five and skates away from the other players and into a safe zone where he’s able to get his helmet and mouth guard off without putting himself in danger.   
He pops open a bottle of water and after he down his first gulp, Louis reaches his mind again. Harry looks around for him, trying to spot an oversized denim jacket with a fuzzy collar in the bleachers and idly wondering if he was bored and wishing he’d stayed back. There wasn’t much going on anyways at the rink, mostly just people in pairs practicing together, nothing too overly exciting, especially to people who weren’t fans of the sport in the first place.

But as Harry scans through the bleachers, he spots Louis laughing with the WAGS, and looking like they’re all enjoying themselves. It looks like they’re all having a great tie and Harry wonders if they’re gossiping about the players, and if they are, hopefully Louis’s only saying good things about him. 

He’s so entranced by Louis with the WAGS, that he barely even notices two vaguely familiar women standing by the bleachers and waving at him to catch his attention. Harry waves back politely, thinking they’re just fans who came to watch, but as they approach him, their faces become clearer and Harry all but chokes on his water when he realizes who they were. 

His mum and his sister walk towards him, and Harry’s so taken by surprise, he just stands there completely frozen in place. His family usually comes to see as many games of his as they can, but particularly, they never miss out on his first game of the season. It’s a family tradition, at this point, but this year, his mum had called to tell him she wouldn’t be able to make it. Harry was upset about it at first, but she’d already been dragged to so many games, missing out on one wouldn’t make a difference.

He’s pretty sure that was all a set up to surprise him, clearly by the smug look on his sisters’ face, but alas, he couldn’t be happier to see them. 

When he snaps back to it, he doesn’t hesitate to get off the rink, still in his full gear, and pulls his mum in for a warm hug. He hadn’t seen her in a while, more than he’d like to admit, so he’s sure to squeeze a little tighter to make up for lost time.

Much too soon, Harry releases her from his hold, “What’re you doing here, mum?”

“A ‘hello’ would be nice, Harry” Anne lightly scolds with a smile. “Didn’t I raise you to be polite?”

“Sorry, mum,” Harry grins, “I’m just a bit surprised you’re here, s’all. I’ve missed you.”

Gemma coughs in the background, “Missed you too, Harry,” 

Harry rolls his eyes before bringing her in for a hug, “Sorry, Gems. I’ve missed you too.”

“Much better,” She says, and Harry knows she’s grinning even if he can’t see it. 

“What’re you doing here, though?” He asks, after the quick embrace, “I thought-”

“You really thought we’d miss your first game of the season?” His mum incredulously asks. 

“No, I-” 

“Harry?” 

Harry’s about to argue back, when Louis steps in, cutting him off and immediately catching his mum’s and sisters attention. 

“Hello, there,” Anne smiles, “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, Harry, and a very handsome one.” She winks. 

“Oh, I-” Louis blushes furiously.

“Mum,” Harry groans, “He’s not...he isn’t my, uh boyfriend. He’s my assistant.”

“Oh,” Anne’s face falls. “Sorry about that, love. I didn’t think you’d be this handsome when we talked.”

“You’ve talked?” Harry raises a brow.

“Of course!” She says, “Louis here helped us with the plane tickets and all. Such a sweetheart for reaching out to us first.”

“You did?” Harry raises a brow, “When did you-”

“Emergency contacts,” Louis shrugs, “You mentioned your..family usually came to see your games so I…”

“What a dear,” Anne grins. Louis’ cheeks burn a deeper colour, that goes unnoticed by the ice hockey player. 

Gemma snickers. “You sure you’re not dating?” 

Harry quickly glances at Louis, who’s doing the most to avoid looking back at him. “Yes. Yes I'm sure, Gems. Do you mind?” 

“Alright,” Gemma shrugs, raising her hands in defeat, “If you say so…”

“I am saying so.” Harry frowns. Give it to his sister for being the best at embarrassing him at the worst times ever. 

“Louis and I oughta be leaving soon,” Harry cut in, intervening before the conversation could go any further, “I should be practicing more and training for the season. You know how it is.”

“Okay, we’ll be going as well,” Anne says, “But you’re joining us for dinner, alright?”

“Sure, mum.” Harry nods. 

Beside him, Louis awkwardly shifts on his feet before excusing himself with his phone in hand.

“He’s cute, huh?” Anne grins once Louis is out of earshot.

“Mum,” he groans. Anne just laughs.

\-----

Later that evening, Harry finds himself having dinner with his family at a nice restaurant not too far off the hotel he’s staying at. It’s very modern looking and the food tastes wonderful, which isn’t too much of a surprise considering how filled out this place was. It’s nice to spend some quality time with his family, especially since it’s been a while since the three of them were able to be at the same place, at the same time. 

But it’s not just the three of them tonight. Anne insisted Louis joined them, and though he was reluctant at first, because he didn’t want to invade on a family dinner, he ended up accepting the sweet gesture and tagged along for their meal together. 

Dinner went well, it was pleasant and refreshing to be with his family again, but even before they even arrived at the restaurant, Harry could tell Louis’ mood was a little off. He mostly kept to himself, barely contributed much to the conversation and answered questions with short and vague answers, but by the end of the night, Louis had warmed up enough to make Anne shoot embarrassing little winks at Harry before they left. He obviously ignored it and ushered them out with his hand resting at the bottom of Louis’ spine, as they headed to the cab.

“Your mum and sister are really nice,” Louis hums in the car. 

“Yeah, they’re the best.” Harry agrees, before a veil of silence falls on them. 

As soon as Harry swipes the room card, Louis excuses himself to the bathroom, under the pretence of needing to pee really, really bad. Harry didn’t think any of it as he kicks his shoes off and drops himself on the couch, before scrolling through his phone to check up on anything he missed out on. 

He’s on his third buzzfeed kitchen video when he realizes Louis’ been in the bathroom for way too long, and he starts to get worried. Throwing his phone aside, Harry gets up from the couch and heads over to the bathroom, and the only thing he could hear was quite sniffles on the other side. Frowning, Harry tentatively knocks on the door.

“Lou?” He tries, “Is everything okay?”

Suddenly, it gets quiet inside and Harry can clearly tell that Louis’d been crying. This only makes him worry even more.

“Yeah,” He hears, another sniff, “I’m fine.”

Harry doesn’t quite believe him, not when Louis’ voice sounded shaky and rough, but one thing he’s learnt about Louis, is to be patient and respect his boundaries. And that’s exactly what he’ll do. 

“Do you want to come out, Lou?”

There’s no answer on the other side, and Harry’s about to open his mouth when Louis beats him to it. The bathroom door suddenly swings open and Harry barely catches himself as Louis stands on the other side. Louis’ already dressed in his pajamas, looking soft and cozy in a t-shirt Harry’s pretty sure was once his and a pair of old trackies, but it’s hard to think about whether or not Louis went through Harry’s suitcase when his eyes are red and puffy, downcast as he timidly walks out of the bathroom. 

“Is everything alright, Lou?” He asks, again. 

“Think I might just go to bed,” He mumbles without bringing his eyes up to Harry. 

“Okay,” Harry nods, “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

Harry wants to give Louis space. It’s clear Louis’ got something going on in his personal life that’s affecting him, and Harry wants to be there for him as much as he can, but he knows forcing someone to talk about something they clearly don’t want to talk about isn’t good nor healthy, so he’ll give him all the space he needs while simultaneously always having his back in case he’d want to talk it out. 

Louis nods, already stepping to the side on his way to bed, but Harry lightly grabs his wrist, stopping him in place. As Louis looks up at him, Harry can see the phantom tracks of his tears on his cheeks and it leaves a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“I’m serious, Lou,” Harry says, “If you just need someone to listen, I’m here for you.”

Louis bites his lips and lets his eyes linger on Harry’s intense glare before taking his wrist out of Harry's grip and walking to his bed. Harry takes the hint and gives him his privacy, leaving the room and taking his seat back on the couch. 

Harry takes a deep sigh as he turns the tv on and lowers the volume until it’s barely muted. There’s guns involved and way too many men fighting each other, but Harry’s mind is elsewhere, specifically, to the blue eyed man only a door away from him. He just wants Louis to be okay, and he feels so helpless as he just stands and watches Louis being upset and being unable to do anything about it. 

The credits start rolling before Harry realizes, and he grabs the remote to find something actually interesting enough to keep his mind from drifting. Unsurprisingly, he ends up on a sports channel, watching an Ice Hockey game he immediately recognizes from last year. 

His eyes fix on the flat screen TV, attentively watching each game that goes by as if he doesn’t remember watching it live at the time. Eventually, his own team starts playing, and it’s still a little weird to see himself on TV even after all these years. 

He sits back as he watches as the game rolls out, and it doesn’t take long before Harry fixates on his flaws. He could’ve been faster, could’ve passed the puck to Lucien sooner, could’ve generally done a lot better despite how his team ended up winning that game. 

Watching himself play and pinpointing his amateur flaws ends up making him incredibly nervous for tomorrow’s game. He’s aware of how much of a great player he is, he’s got a solid track record that’s proof of it enough, but he can’t help getting anxious before any big game.

“Harry?” He hears. He turns his head to the side, only to see Louis slumping sleepily into the room. “What're you still doing up? S’late, go to sleep.”

His brows furrow before he glances at the clock, pointers showing him that it was definitely past his bedtime. 

“Sorry,” He mumbles, “Got distracted.” He points to the TV, still showing off one of the games Harry's played at, “I’m getting nervous just from watching.”

Louis sighs and plops himself right next to him on the couch, sitting a little closer than Harry expected, close enough to feel his body heat radiate and giving him a closer look at his puffy eyes and red bitten lips, that haven’t dulled from when Harry last saw him. 

“You don't have to be nervous,” Louis assures him, “You're amazing in there.”

“Thanks, Lou,” He gives his best effort with a genuine smile, “Sorry, love. I’m just getting in my head.”

All of a sudden, Louis cuddles his side and keeps an arm around Harry’s waist. Harry’s eyes widen in surprise, since Louis hardly ever starts anything affectionate with him. He’s not sure if Louis occasionally throwing his feet to his lap as he works on his laptop, while Harry watches trash reality TV shows counts as Louis making the first move, but if he was keeping a tally board, he'd definitely give Louis a point for that. 

“It’ll be okay.” Louis whispers into his shoulder blade. 

Harry hugs him back, wrapping an arm around his back and gently pulls him in so they're laying down, Louis halfway on top of him and burrowing his nose at the nape of Harry’s neck. 

“What about you?'' Harry whispers, quietly as if it’s a secret between them, “Do you want to talk?”

Louis hasn't opened up much since last time, and even now, as they’re wrapped up in each other, Harry doesn’t think any of it would change. Louis needs time, and Harry’s going to give him as much as he needs, regardless if he ends up opening up or not. 

“It’ll be okay,” Louis mumbles again. Harry feels his eyelashes against his neck, twitching lightly as the smaller one closes them and curls over him.

Harry closes his eyes and repeats that mantra in his head, until he falls asleep with Louis sleeping soundly in his arms.

He hasn’t slept this good in ages.

\------

Harry’s up long before Louis is, as if his internal clock knew exactly what sort of day he had ahead of him. He wakes up early enough to go through the motions of his pre-game ritual, but it’s the first time Louis’ softly snoring beside him, back to his chest as they take up any space left on the couch. 

He doesn’t mind waking up like this, and though he cuddles Louis closer to his chest for an extra five minutes, he knew he had to start getting ready for today’s game. So he soaks it up as much as he can before reluctantly and carefully sliding his arms off of Louis’ waist and covering his body with a warm blanket. 

Louis looks incredibly cozy and soft as he lays there, and there’s a huge part of Harry that wants to ditch the light jog he’s planning on, just to stay back and cuddle under the sheets again. He really can’t though, and as much as it pains him, he swaps out to his workout clothes and carefully closes the door behind him as he heads down to the gym. 

When he’s done, he’s barely broken a sweat, but he’s worked up an appetite and makes sure to order some pancakes and tea along with his usual proper breakfast. 

The food arrives in the room before Harry gets up there, and Louis’ already sipping out of his tea, still sitting in the same place he fell asleep last night.

“Sorry,” Harry says as he shoves his sneakers off by the door, “Did I wake you?”

“No,” Louis yawns, “I’ve been up for a while.”

Harry smiles, because that’s all he can do when Louis’ around and looking this cute.

They eat breakfast together, Louis happily munches on his pancakes smothered with honey, and scrunches his nose at Harry’s much healthier choice of meal. Still, he steals Harry’s strawberries from his plate and Harry lets him. 

As they eat, there’s no mention of what happened last night, and Harry isn’t really expecting either of them to bring it up anyways, but he definitely notices how Louis blushes whenever Harry lingers too long on him, and tries to hide it by looking away and stuffing more pancakes inside his mouth.

It shouldn’t be as much of a heart-warming sight as it is, but Harry still smiles to himself as he finishes off his meal. 

\------

Game days are always daunting, but there’s nothing more nerve wracking as the first game of the season. 

Harry hates to admit how jumpy he was feeling, and though practice earlier went really well, he’s still very much on edge as the clock ticks closer to the start of the game. Louis was by his side the whole morning, enduring his jitters out the rink and hanging out on the bleachers with a few WAGS and Harry’s family while Harry practiced inside. He seemed to be in a better mood than yesterday, though still being reserved as to what was bothering him so much. Harry wasn’t going to push though, and instead just appreciated his presence, that also worked to help settle any nervous feelings Harry was getting. 

Still, while his team huddles up before leaving the locker room, Harry’s heart pumps loudly against his chest as their coach throws them final words of encouragement. It’s nothing Harry, nor his team, hadn’t heard before, but he still soaks it up and works up his confidence for what’s coming. 

“It’s the first game, let’s make it count, boys,” Coach finishes, sending them all into a collective cheer. 

\--

They’re on the last segment of the game, and though the Toronto Hawks are on the lead, anything could happen at some point that could change the entire outcome, and everyone's on the same page when it comes to securing their win and staying in the season, but the Vancouver Canucks weren’t giving them any less of a fight. 

The clock was already ticking and the crowd was cheering in anticipation as the game was nearing its end. Harry could barely listen to the clamor coming from the audience, too zoned out from the noise and fully keeping his eyes on the prize. 

Harry skates down the rink, following Felix’s lead and swerving his opponents before Dave passes him the puck, which Harry flawlessly catches and manages to hold onto, until he’s skated to the perfect spot and shoots the puck, dodging the goalie and getting it into the net, before he hears the blaring of the end of the second half, getting that extra point and securing the first win of the Toronto Hawks for the season. 

His teammates jump on him before he knows it, happily screaming in his ear, chanting his name and cheering for their first win (of many more, hopefully). The cheers continue as they leave the rink, coming from the crowd and the Toronto Hawks themselves, happy to not do any walks of shame this early in the game. 

The locker room is a total chaos of high levels of adrenaline and good vibes, and Harry’s addicted to this high. They’re all sweaty and gross from enduring a three hour game, (granted, divided into 20 minute segments and including all the practice beforehand), but no one cares when they’ve literally won the first game of the season, which puts them off to a great start. 

Richard’s outside of the locker room, standing with Louis and Harry’s family, and as he walks out, his manager can’t even get a word in before the three of them are practically jumping from excitement of Harry getting that first win.

“Well done, Harry,” Richard cuts in, “Keep it up and we’ve got a great season ahead of us.”

Harry nods, too excited to let any bitterness he has toward Richard seep in. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Louis grins, getting on his tip toes and bringing his arms around Harry’s shoulders in a tight hug. Harry’s so elated for his win and to have Louis in his arms, he secures his arms around the smaller ones waist and picks him up, twirling him around and reveling in Louis’ giggles.

He sets Louis down but still keeps his arms around him as Louis refuses to leave.

“So much for not dating, huh,” Harry heard Gemma snicker. 

Harry glares at his sister and throws her his middle finger, before he hugs Louis a little bit tighter and fits his face in the nape of his neck.

He truly feels like a winner. 

\----

It’s not exactly a surprise how the next few games go well, the Toronto Hawks winning with flying colours. It’s been a tough season so far, all the other teams haven’t been fucking around and proved to be real competition. With some teams, Harry already knew it would be tough, but he’d gotten surprised by how well some teams played, and how off other teams were, considering his previous research on them. Granted, every team has bad days, including his sometimes, but the Toronto Hawks always manage to bounce back, and with each game, they end up securing a spot closer to the finale. 

With a lot of games, comes a lot of travelling, which mostly means spending a lot of time together as a team stuck in some sort of a confined space - like the bus, or jets when they go to furthest places. 

For the most part, the team gets on well and they’ve played together long enough to know when to back out from any upcoming argument and to save any negative energy for the rink. It’s foul proof, except for the odd day there’s an insignificant fight going on, but so far, there's been nothing major going on and Harry’s grateful for that. The last thing he needs is a team where no one manages to see eye to eye in their most important time of the year. 

They were onto their nth game, and Harry's family wasn't here anymore to watch him play, since they had their own busy lives to tend to and couldn’t extend their stay much longer, so it was just Louis and Richard watching from the sidelines now. 

He’d taken his mum and Gemma to the airport and almost made them miss their flight since Anne was having a hard time saying goodbye to her son, and Harry’s never one to not indulge his mum in some much needed hugs. If things worked out, he wouldn’t see his family again for a couple of months, so they had to hug it out long enough to last for all their time spent apart. 

Harry was a little worried now that his mum and sister weren’t here to distract Louis from his manager, since he wasn’t a fan of small talk or him, like Louis ranted to him about, and that Harry insisted wasn’t true, but as halftime comes and Harry takes his helmet off during the short break, he takes the opportunity to scan the crowd to look for Louis, and what Harry finds takes him completely by surprise.

Louis’ sitting on the bleachers, laughing and giggling with a man, a very attractive man that Harry’s never seen before. He must be a model, Harry’s sure of it - all charming, alluring and handsome, and Harry just wants to know what Mr. Handsome is saying that’s oh so funny. 

Harry thinks it’s better when Louis’ giggling it up with the WAGS, but he’s also quick to acknowledge how much he needs to chill the fuck out and not let his mind get the best of him. Louis’ probably giggling out of politeness, there’s probably nothing to it and nothing worth getting riled up for. 

In the midst of laughing, Louis settles and catches Harry’s eyes, grinning wide at him and shooting him two thumbs up that make Harry’s stomach flutter and has him feeling better already. 

He’s gonna win this game. Mark his words. 

\-------

True to his word, they win yet another game and after a prideful speech from their Coach - that might’ve ended in a few joyful tears - everyone’s in a great mood and there's murmurs going around about a celebration in someone's room later on. 

Harry spots Louis waiting by Richard as he leaves the locker room. Louis’ put some distance between them, but he still looks uncomfortable and slightly awkward as he stands next to him. He lights up when he sees Harry heading in his direction, and that does something to him. 

“Wooo!” He cheers on his tippy toes, “Congrats Harry!”

“Thanks, Lou,” He grins. 

“Good game out there, Harry,” mentions Richard, who Harry barely noticed was there. There’s a certain air of pride surrounding his manager that Harry’s not a stranger to. He’ll most likely be boasting about the Hawks’ win with his golf buddies later on, that’s for for sure. 

As they leave, Harry falls back into step with Louis, and it’s not like he’s jealous or anything, but he’s just curious about one little thing. 

“So,” He starts, “Who was that guy sitting beside you?”

“What guy?” Louis raises a brow. 

“On the bleachers. He seemed really funny, and very….model-like.”

“Zayn?” Louis snorts, “Please, I bet he’d love to hear that.”

Zayn. Even his name sounded way too fucking cool. 

“He’s my neighbour, actually,” Louis says. “I didn't know he was an ice hockey fan, but apparently him and his brothers have been coming to these weekend games, and I found him a few rows behind and called him to sit next to us.” 

“Oh.” Suddenly Harry feels like an idiot. 

“Why?” Louis asks.

Harry pales in embarrassment, “No reason, just curious.”

“Sure,” He giggles, “I’m sure Zayn would love to hear this one. Mr. Big, Professional Ice Hockey Player is jealous of him.”

Harry knows Louis’ only teasing him, but he also knows his dumb possessiveness is getting out of hand. He tends to act first and think after, when he’s out of the rink, even if he likes to think he doesn’t. 

He’s starting to get real obvious and real pathetic and he’s doing way too much when he’s not even sure exactly where they stand. Louis gets hot and cold with him, sometimes they’re way too close and making jokes all day, but others, Louis barely even looks at him, and it’s starting to become a lot more confusing each day. 

Not having any certainty is definitely a first for Harry. He’s used to having people wanting his attention, and establishing exactly what they want out of him, and to now be in a gray area where he doesn’t even know what he wants, or what to do, is really confusing. They haven’t literally slept together since the other night, and though Harry really wants to again, neither of them make any first moves. It seems like every time they take a step forth, they take back two. 

As they leave, Louis’ talking about something, ice hockey related maybe, but Harry's eyes keep drifting down to glance at his smile, and thinks about what he has to do, to have him be the reason for that smile.

\---

Harry always loves a good party. 

He likes to have fun and let loose with his mates just as much as the next person, but being in the season means no heavy drinking whatsoever. It’s not really a rule that’s set in stone, but Harry's just learned the hangover is never really worth it. A beer or two is fine, but anything heavier than that definitely impacts his performance in the rink, so he prefers to stay pretty much sober during these get-togethers. 

Though sobriety is always recommended, Harry currently finds himself in Archer’s suite, crowded with his own teammates, players from the opposite team and a few others Harry assumes are plus ones - not that this frat-resembling party required any of that fancy rsvp shit - with pretty much everyone holding onto a drink. 

The night is going well so far. Harry’s having fun, chatting with some friends, bantering and rolling his eyes whenever questions about Louis go too far, when all of a sudden, Harry notices a crowd forming at the other side of the room, with slurred out shouts against voices trying to dissuade the situation. 

Murmurs go around, some even pushing through to take a better look at what was going down, and after a quick glance at Yanis, both of them excused themselves out of their own conversations to go check it out. 

It’s not much of a surprise to Harry when he sees Logan, obviously shitfaced and starting shit with Devin from the opposite team who, on the other hand, looks considerably more sober than him and if anything, looking like he wants out of that conversation. He’s got his hands up and actively tries to shut him down, but it only seems to be making worse in Logan’s inebriated mind. 

“C'mon, dude. Just calm down.” Devin tries. 

“M’not fucking calm down,” Logan slurs, “Know m’the besy fuckn’ player.”

Harry needs to put an end to this.

“Styles, wait!”

“I got this,” He assures Yanis, “I’m just gonna talk him out of it.”

Yanis doesn’t look so sure, but Harry’s stubborn when he wants to be and he’s good at stopping fights before they happen. He goes without thinking twice, and eventually Yanis follows behind as Harry kindly pushes past some players and straight into the war zone.

“What's going on here?” He raises his voice over the incomprehensible drunk mumbles Logan’s throwing out. Sloppily, Logan struggles to hold his weight and sways on his feet as he tries to stand over Harry.

“S’none of yous fucking business, Styles.” He grunts. 

“If you're doing this shit publicly then, it _is_ my fucking business,” Harry voices, “What're you even doing, mate?”

“Not your fucking mate” Logan grunts. 

Harrys sure he’d tip over if he pushed him with barely any effort. It’s tempting, _really fucking tempting_ , but Harry’s bigger than that and would much rather talk this out than get his hands dirty. 

“Okay, man,” Harry calmly says, “Look, let’s just get you out of here, alright? Get you in-”

Harry almost misses Logan’s raised fist, but he manages to dodge it in time and suddenly there’s hands on his arms, pulling them apart before anything could happen. Harry wasn’t about to start a fight in the middle of a get together, so he offers no resistance as he steps back. 

Still, he can’t say the same for Logan, who pulls and pushes on the grip on him, jolting around and kicking his legs up to escape. In the midst of his tantrum, he kicks his leg high enough to hit the side of Harry’s stomach. He doubles over and grunts as the pain of the impact spreads. 

“Fuck off, Styles!” Logan howls, despite the copious amount of people holding him back and pulling him further, “Your goods luck streaks gonna end soon, Styles.”

Despite the fresh wound to his stomach, Harry still musters enough strength to scoff. If there’s anyone who isn’t as good as they think they are, it’s definitely Logan and it doesn’t take an idiot to figure that one out. 

Logan gets pushed out of the room, still bitching on his way and leaving behind an awkward air around the room. The party’s still going on, but it sobered up rather quickly thanks to Logan’s ridiculous little stunt. 

“You should probably go too, Harry,” Felix tells him, “You need to rest this one out dude.”

The numb throb on Harry’s side makes him agree without much consideration. A part of him wanted to suck it up and stay behind to chill with his friends, but he can’t even get himself to stand up straight without feeling the burn flare up on his side. Logan’s probably left a nasty bruise behind, and Harry doesn’t even want to look at it. 

The party ends early for him and he dismisses any offers to help him get to his room. He can walk just fine, and he’s only two floors up anyways, so it’s not too much exertion for him. 

Harry gets to his room in no time and throws himself on his bed without bothering to get under the covers. He’ll get to it later, but for now, all he wanted was to lay down and will the throbbing pain down. 

He barely gets the chance to when abruptly, the door to his room swings open and he jolts where he lays, when in comes and a very worried looking Louis.

“Harry, _oh my God_ , are you okay?” He asks, brows stitched together in a panicked fret, “Oh my god, I heard what happened and I came running here, are you-”

“Yes, I’m fine,” He grunts, “Don’t worry about it, s’not even hurting too much now anyways.” Not that Louis believes a word he’s saying, “How’d you find out? Weren’t you asleep already?”

Despite also being invited, Louis decided to sit this party out to get some sleep. He’d been tired all day from travelling the day before and he wasn’t much in the mood to go to that party. 

“You think any good personal assistant wouldnt know when a fight breaks out at a ‘small get together’, so to speak.” Louis rhetorically asks as he sits down next to Harry on his bed. With some effort, Harry sits up and leans on a mountain of pillows.

“I’d hardly call it a fight,” Harry scoffs.

“Voices were raised, fists were thrown - that’s the textbook definition of a fight,” Louis says. “Definitely not just a misunderstanding.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “Whatever, no one got hurt, so.” 

“Yeah, except that's not true,” Louis says, “You got kicked in the stomach, if you don’t recall.”

“It was hardly a kick,” Harry shrugs off, “It’s worse in the rink, honestly. Plus it wasn't even on my stomach.”

Louis frowns, “I don’t know why you’re trying to shrug this off like it’s nothing,” He says. “Even the smallest hit would matter, doesn’t matter if it’s in or out of the rink. Now lets see, push your shirt up, please.”

There’s no reluctance to bring his shirt up, but he still does it with a frown, even when the lightest shade of pink works it’s way on Louis’ cheeks.

Instinctively, Harry looks down to his stomach and sure enough, there's a tinge of purple and green starting to form on his skin where he got hit. It’s then that Harry notices the first aid kit in Louis’ hand as he opens it, searching through for the right materials. 

“What’s that for,” Harry dumbly asks.

“What do you think it’s for, dumbass,” Louis snaps at him lightly.

“Sorry,” He follows, “I know it's not your fault but I hope this is the last time I tend to your wounds.”

“Thought you said that the last time,” Harry says cheekily. 

“Well, I mean it this time,” Louis mumbles. 

Harry smiles, knowing well enough that's not entirely true. 

Louis checks around the area, searching for cuts and disinfecting it regardless. He’s quiet as he analyses, eyes flitting back and forth and fingers carefully assessing where it felt tender the most. 

“Everything’s good, now,” Louis says, smiling and looking back up at Harry, only to see him already looking back. 

It’s quiet for a second as they hold their gaze. Louis’ hand still rests on Harry’s side, and it feels heavier by the minute. In this light, Harry’s able to tell the slight blush starting to tint his cheeks. He looks beautiful, gorgeous even if he’s just rushed out of bed, not even five minutes ago. 

Harry feels an urge to lean in, and with the way Louis’ looking at him, it’s difficult to hold himself back. His chin tilts, ever so slightly, and he thinks Louis’ about to lean in, but instead Louis clears his throat, interrupting whatever was happening between them. 

“Take some ibuprofen and go to bed,” He says, standing up and brushing the front of his thighs, “You’ve got an early morning.”

It’s not really true. There isn’t a game tomorrow and they’re staying til the day after, and only leaving after lunch time, so there’s a lot of time to practice and to leave. Louis very well knows this.

“Sleep tight,” Harry smiles as Louis leaves to his own room, eyes lowering to the curve of Louis’ ass in his black leggings. 

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” He sing-songs back. 

\-----

Harry had nothing but sweet dreams that night. 

\-----

Harry hasn't heard anything from Logan since the night he tried to start a fight with him. He showed up to practices and sat in the back of the bus, but was yet to direct a word to Harry, instead of hard glares that did nothing to intimidate him. Harry didn’t take it to heart, he’s not one to hold onto meaningless grunges, but it's clear what level of Logan’s maturity is if he can't even manage to apologize for starting shit up. He should be apologizing to Archer too, since he single-handedly ruined the mood of his get together with his drunken antics. 

There’s no excuse good enough to cover for it, but Harry’s not about to lose brain cells over shit like this. It’s game night, they’re in another city playing against another team and for now, the odds are with the Toronto Hawks, so he’s not about to let anything ridiculous ruin his mood. 

Except Zayn is here, sitting on the bleachers with Louis hanging off his arm.

By now, Harry can positively say there’s some sort of obvious tension between them, and he knows he’s not pulling this out of thin air. Everyone who knows them thinks they’re dating anyways, and the fact that he feels a certain type of way when Louis’ with Zayn isn’t a good sign.

Harry actually met the bloke during pre-game practice and, of course, Zayn was incredibly polite and actually nice to talk to. For a super fan, he was also very chill and composed, and knew his ice hockey well enough to have a common interest with him. 

That only made Harry's jealousy worse. 

He knows it’s pathetic of him and realistically, he’d never stop Louis from hanging out with whoever he wanted, but it’s just...he’s kind of stuck in a gray area with him and he doesn’t really know what to do about it other than manifesting _something_ happens between them, something that’ll show him it’s not completely one sided. 

And, fuck. Louis looks like an absolute dream, wearing a sweater Harry is pretty sure belongs to him. He looks better in it anyways and in the weirdest way, it somehow relieves Harry that it’s his clothes he’s wearing, and not Zayns, or anyone else's.

 _God_ , Harry gets stupid when he’s got-

“Head in the clouds, Styles?” Yanis suddenly cuts off his trail of thought, “You’re drooling a little bit.”

“What?” Harry widens his eyes, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jersey, “No, I was just- waiting on you guys.”

Yanis hums, “By taping your stick more than it needs to?”

Harry looks down and fuck, he’s right. He’s overdone it, clearly too distracted to focus properly, but he can’t let him know. 

“Of course,” Harry chuckles, “Gotta make sure the stick is good to go.”

“Sure, Styles,” Yanis chuckles, “Anyways, we’ve got five minutes, so don’t take too long.”

“Pfft,” Harry says, “I'm already there, dude.”

Yanis doesn't sound any bit convinced as he turns around to finish getting ready himself, and Harry takes that chance to properly fix his stick and ensure it’s ready for tonight's game. They’re playing against the Detroit Red Wings and Harry’s more than ready to get that team out of the way. 

Harry feels good about this game. He recognizes these players from his research, memorizes their scores in his free time and if it was all about the averages, Harry's team definitely had leverage over them. Still, during pre-game practice, Harry kept a watchful eye on them and was impressed with what he saw. They played well, well enough to be considered competition this season, and Harry loves having competition. After all, where’s the fun in winning with no effort at all? 

He gets ready quickly and soon enough, his team’s lining up for their entrance. He hears cheers coming from the bleachers, and the teams aren't even inside the rink yet. It sends Harry a rush of adrenaline through his veins and gets his heart pumping, ready for the game and he can’t wait to take the crown on this one. 

The voices of the commenters boom above, making way for the other team to get in the rink and skate about as the commenter introduces them. Harry doesn't miss how crazy the crowd got, their side cheering heavily and buzzing with anticipation. 

Finally, it’s their turn to get on the ice and Harry’s the first in line. He barely listens to his coach as he fist bumps him before finally stepping into the rink, gliding down as the commenters call them in. Harry takes the chance to look up at the crowd rooting for them, and his chest fills with appreciation and pride with the way they go wild over the Toronto Hawks. He smiles to himself when he spots Louis jumping in excitement with Zayn and the WAGS. 

The teams then get into their designated positions, adjusting their helmets and getting to place as the referees join in. Time seems to slow down as they wait in anticipation for the game to start, and the crowd quiets down as the thrum of excitement washes through them. 

_Beep_. 

Lucien gets into place, head on with the other team's front dude, Thomson. 

_Beep_. 

The referee raises his arm. Harry grips the stick tighter. 

_Beeeeep._

All too fast, the game starts and like lightning, Lucien and Thomson go for the puck and just as quickly as they started the opening round. Lucien takes the lead, stealing the puck before his adversary gets the chance to hoard the puck all to himself. 

Harry takes charge and follows in front, waiting his cue before the puck gets shot into Harry’s general direction, and immediately Mantha skates to it’s direction, but Harry beats him to it, catching the puck with his stick and skillfully throws it to Felix without letting anyone from the other team catch it. 

The crowd cheers loudly as Felix makes a pass to Jennings, who manages to hold it well, before his opponents start to crowd over him, playing close enough to check if he isn’t careful, and as Jennings manages to push himself out of that while still holding the puck, he makes a hit to the goal, but the keeper catches it last second and throws it back to the game.

_Fuck._

There’s no time to wallow the point that could’ve been made, the puck is already being passed around by the other teammates, gliding down the ice rink with practiced ease, until the puck falls into Harry’s area and he swipes in, stealing the puck and skating down the ice and around the goalie, passing it to Yanis as he gets closer to make a safe pass and Harry follows behind as Yanis takes control and skates ahead.

Harry knows he’ll make the pass to Liam, he’s in the best position to make a goal and Harry’s hoping it all follows through. 

Liam catches the puck as Yanis hits it, the commentators above being a hum in Harry's ears as he watches the scene ahead, while still being alert in case it fails or someone tries to check him. And _fuck_ , Glendening circles around him, ready to catch the puck if all fails for him. 

_Come on, Li._

Liam skates left. Right. Left again to dodge Glendening. He manages, passing with flying colours and once he's in the right position, he angles his stick, shooting right into the goal. 

The whistle goes off, and everyone’s piling on Liam. 

The arena fills with cheers as the Toronto Hawks score the first point, and Harry couldn’t be happier. He hugs Liam’s side tightly, raising his fist up in the air as they bunch up all together to celebrate. However, it runs short as the clock is still ticking and there's still goals to make, and hopefully one grand win at the end worth celebrating all night long. 

Everyone skates back to place as the game starts again and waiting for that whistle to blow is torture, but as soon as they’re given the green light, sticks clash and 200lbs men lunge at each other over getting possession over the puck. It’s rough and a disaster to be in the middle of, but Harry’s teammates hold their part in keeping that winning streak and won’t give it up for anything. 

At some point in the game, after the Detroit Red Wings scored a point, Harry gets possession of the puck. He manages to keep it in control, passing it to Lucien and getting it back as they skate down the ice. Unfortunately, Harry got too centered on receiving the puck back that he failed to notice Timashov and Fabbri heading his way, leering on his toes and enclosing him against the plexi with hardly much room to branch out. 

Harry’s stuck. He’s trapped between them with barely any room to move, yet he still takes a risk. In the tiniest opening, Harry glances at his teammates, ready to receive the puck and with a limited motion range, he shoots the puck across the ice and holds in a breath until anyone from his team catches it. 

Thankfully, Ordaz catches it at the same time Harry’s able to get out of that human cage and skate ahead, but not for long until he feels himself get struck against his back and thrown into the plexi, giving a painful show to the front row. He grunts as he gets pushed along, still squeezed against the plexi, and with as much force as he can, he pushes against and checks back before skating away and heading back into the game, with a strain on his back and thankfully with all his teeth in place.

Louis mentioned wanting a necklace of lost teeth, but Harry would prefer if it wasn’t any of his own. He’s had enough visits to the dentist for a lifetime.

\-----

Half time begins and Harry’s adrenaline pumping through his veins makes him ignore any tiredness and soreness of his body for skating up and down, and checking and getting checked back by 200lbs men. 

Harry needs water, fast, in order to stay hydrated. He’s already worked up a sweat beneath all his gear and layers, and any fresh water he can drink, would be a lifesaver right now. 

So far, they’re tied together. Harry’s team helps the upper hand for the most part, but they’ve managed to snag some points during these last five minutes and Harry's set on recovering. Games can take any direction, so he’s not counting on this tie for long, but he’s hoping to get a few scores in so there’s a better chance of them winning. 

He downs enough water and hands the half drunk bottle to the first person in the small booth. He’s not sure if it’s someone’s assistant or someone who works for the rink, but he still thanks them as they hold onto that water. 

Richard’s there, speaking to Harry’s coach like he normally is. He probably gets more nervous than Harry would ever get, since he’s got more to lose. A stressed out Richard is a pain to deal with, no matter how good of a manager he is. 

Louis isn’t there. He never is during games, instead always sitting back on the sidelines until the game is truly over, and even then, he hangs back until the teams start to leave the locker rooms. There’s still a few minutes before the second part starts again and Harry glances at the bleachers, easily spotting Louis in between the painted faces and the WAGS, and Zayn, of course,

He smiles to himself at the sight, but it stops from reaching his eyes when there’s a man he does not recognize, coming up to Louis. He’s not expecting the interruption, but still smiles and laughs politely as the man speaks to him. About what? Harry doesn’t know, nor does he care, but he’s willing to bet he wasn’t even that funny in the first place. 

The man ends up sitting beside him, where Richard should be seated and he can see how Louis sits closer to Zayn, rather than the other man. Harry can’t help the grunt he makes as he watches that scene, glaring as he brings his bottled water to his mouth, and almost spitting all over himself when he feels someone smack his back. 

“What was that for?” Harry grumbles. 

“Watcha looking at, Styles?” Liam snickers, “Don’t think you’ll lose your stick if you hold it gently, mate.”

“What?” Harry frowns, looking down to where he’s gripping his stick, and sure enough, his ungloved hands show his knuckles turn white from the sheer grasp. Embarrassed, he loosens his hold and glares at Liam’s knowing smirk. 

“Nothing.” Harry mutters, “What do you want?”

Liam chuckles, “There’s no need to get all alpha-possessive on him Harry,” He says, “From the way I see it, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Harry’s shoulders untense, “What do you...what do you mean.”

“M’not exactly cupid here,” Which is a lie, since Liam has played wingman to most of Harry’s failed relationships, “But I have my fair share of knowledge in the dating world.”

“Not if you call it the dating world.” Harry mutters.

“And what I mean,” Liam continues seamlessly, “is that Louis isn’t interested in Romeo over there,” He points his chin up to where Louis’ at, smiling to the man but keeping to himself.

Harry gulps, “Are you sure about that?”

“Positive,” Liam smiles, “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, mate, there’s something there,” he says. “You’re easier to tell, with the way u keep drooling every time he walks in the room. Trust me, Harry, you’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

Harry’s man enough to admit it’s slightly embarrassing to be exposed like this, but it’s also as much of a relief to know that maybe Harry’s little, tiny crush has a good chance of being reciprocated after all. He knows Liam’s honest and loyal, above all, and isn’t just saying it to appease him. He calls it like it is, and Harry's shoulders sag a little easier.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry said unconvincingly. 

“Again, subtlety isn't your strong point, Styles.”

And he’s gonna do something about it. 

A heart to heart in the middle of halftime isn’t something Harry wants to do, and he’s glad the whistle rang because he doesnt think he could deal with talking about Louis like this. Maybe after the game is over and Harry drops an excuse to leave the room and think things over. Think about whether or not to keep chasing, if he’d lose him if he tried.

That's the worst part - the possibility of losing him, of taking a step too big and too far. He knows Louis doesn't want to risk his job, not after all that stupid drama with Richard, so they’ll have to talk about it, about-

_Jesus, fuck, Harry’s pathetic when he’s got a crush._

He shakes his head. He’s thinking too far ahead, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there but for now he’ll have to take it easy. He’s hardly accepted his reality - that he might have more feelings for his assistant than he’d reckoned, as if his ridiculous possessiveness and constant thoughts about him weren’t proof of that enough. 

Another whistle blows off.

Harry takes another glance at Louis, smiling away, and shakes his head, fitting his mouth piece back on and putting his helmet back on. No more distractions.

The game begins again and the crowd is buzzing in anticipation. The commenters speak above them, talking about what went down in the first part to fill up anyone who’d just tuned in, but it’s all a blur in Harry's ears. 

He focuses more of getting into place and zones out what’s happening outside of the rink, and yet in the space between skating onto his spot and until the countdown begins, he lets his eyes flit to the crowd where he know Louis’ at, and smiles to himself as he sees the blue eyed man standing on his tippy toes to get a better view, and cheering along with the crowd. 

The game starts again and straight away, the Toronto Hawks take the lead. The puck goes from Lucien to Noah, who skates and makes a move to Enzo, though the latter doesn’t make it before Bertuzzi swipes in and steals the puck, making a turn behind his team’s goal and charging for the other side. 

It’s all a blur of both teams taking charge, neither of them settling into failure as they quickly tie together during the second half. There’s still time before the game is officially over, and Harry knows his team will win, they _always_ do.

Harry glides down the rink, eyes on the prize as he follows the puck as it gets passed between two players of the opposite team. He’s in a vital position to claim the puck, but unexpectedly, Timashov shoots the puck to Helm, who skates dangerously close to the Hawks’ goal. Etienne prepares himself to protect their goal, but Harry’s already mentally thinking about where he should go, what’s the next plan of attack. 

_Fuck, these dudes are tough,_ Harry thinks to himself.

He sets into motion, gliding easily and swiftly, before he swoops in and skillfully catches the puck, guarding it as he skates ahead and in direction to the other side. Out of the corner of his eye he sees he’s about to get cornered, and maybe checked since he wasn't far off the plexi, so with a quick scan to his side, and seeing how Lucien was free, Harry makes the shot at him, Lucien catching it with ease and speeding his way to the goal. 

But Harry isn’t completely off the hook. No matter where he skates to, there’s still two players hanging off his back and avoiding them doesn’t work. He watches carefully, skating ahead and playing his part.

The puck ends up with Liam and he’s struggling to maintain possession when he’s being trapped between two players. Harry uses his best telepathic skills to bring Liam’s attention to him, seeing he’s free and thankfully, he’s heard.

Liam makes the shot at him and Harry’s skating on his way to get there, but he’s so focused on reaching the puck before anyone from the opposite team gets there first, that he fails to notice the figure briskly skating in his direction. Harry’s stick almost touches the puck before he instinctively turns his head to his side, but it’s too late and suddenly Harry’s grunting as he feels a sharp pang of agony coming from his knee, and shivering down his body as he crashes against the plexi. His mouthpiece prevents him from yelling out in pain, but he bites down as a cry screams through his throat. 

His body weakens and the excruciating pain on his knee prevents him from holding himself up, so he crashes on the ice beneath him and feels his eyes prickle with tears as he screeches in pain. His body throbs and weighs him down as he barely moves against the ice. 

There’s a stabbing feeling all over that worsens by the minute, and he can’t fucking move an inch without that feeling coming back all over again, except a million times worse. His heavy equipment makes it harder to move, but Harry’s in so much fucking pain he doesn’t want to stir anyways. He can barely hear anything other than his own muffled cries and his heartbeat ringing heavy in his ears. 

There’s voices around him now, chants from the crowd and what he can make out to be his name being called. His eyes are clenched tight as he cries, but he feels a crowd forming beside him and with a lot of effort, he squints one eye open, but the blaring lights above make it harder to see who’s who. 

“Harry!” He hears, though he can’t place who spoke. “Stay awake, Harry! Please!”

Harry groans. Moving hurts, breathing hurts, everything hurts. Harry wants to keep his eyes open but the lights are blinding and his head starts to throb. He just needs to close his eyes for one second. Just one. He’ll be okay. 

“Harry!”

_Beep._

“Harry, please!”

He’ll be okay. 

\-------

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

There’s a really fucking annoying sound that just makes Harry’s stinging headache a lot worse. It feels like something close to torture and it’s almost getting louder each time. His mind is muddled up and his body weighs him down. He feels like he should be feeling something, except he feels nothing other than a numbness running through his veins. 

His eyes feel heavy and locked in place, and it takes a whole lot of effort to even get them to open just a little bit. He barely sees a slit of white come into his vision, but it’s too bright and Harry shuts them tight again. His lips move, but no sound comes out. Everything turns black again. 

The light is too bright, the noise is too loud, Harry can’t handle it. 

_Beep._

\-------

When Harry wakes up the second time, he feels like he’s been hit by a train. 

He’s exhausted and the grogginess weighs on him ten times worse, as does the discomfort all across his body. He’s numbed out, and heavy, and he’s never felt so out of place. 

He finds it easier to blink his eyes and move the tips of his fingers, but any other range of motion tires him just thinking about it. His hearing is clearer and the beeping isn’t feeding into his headache as much, but now he hears the rumble of machines and murmurs of voices, saying words that feel familiar, except he can’t quite place said words in sentences without being completely inexplicable. 

It’s all a muddled mess in his head. 

_Louis. Where’s Louis._

Harry barely blinks. The fogginess of the room sharpens up with each flutter and Harry begins to make out white walls, a lone tv playing some sort of reality tv show, at least it sounds like it. Bickering, lots of bickering. Is it from the tv? Harry can’t tell. 

_Beep._

The noise starts to annoy him. It seems to get louder by the minute and he feels a strong urge to cover his ears. He’s unable to do so, his hands weigh down on his sides and he’s left with no choice than to be stuck listening to the aggravating beeping noise. 

He can’t take it anymore, he needs to...needs to-

It takes a lot of strength, and a lot of internal screaming, but Harry fights through the stiffness and the heaviness of his head, and turns his head to the side. There’s something soft pressing against his cheek, but Harry barely registers it when his body aches all over. 

“He’s awake!” Harry flinches at the noise. It’s too loud, sounding so close and hurting his brain.

Then there’s rumbles, rumbles that make words, that form into clear sentences and Harry opens his eyes, blinking them until his lids don’t hold any weight and he can see clearly now, better than before, and he’s met with his mum, sister and Richard, standing around him looking tired, disgruntled and worried. Harry can’t imagine he looks any better.

But there’s no Louis. _Where is he?_

“S’what-” He tries, before starting a coughing fit. His throat feels raspy and sore, as if he hasn’t spoken nor drank any water for a week. 

“It’s okay, Harry,” He hears his mum say, “Don't work yourself up, love.”

“Whe…” Harry tries again, “Lou…”

It should be weird that out of this very confusing situation, Harry's calling for Louis. It _does_ feel really fucking weird, but to be fair nothing right now feels normal. Harry doesn't even feel like himself. Even Richard isn’t looking too good. The wrinkles on his face look worse, accentuated, stressed out. 

“He’s-”

Richard gets cut off by the doctor walking in, given the scrubs. Harry figured he was in a hospital, the machines next to him and needles attached to his arm were evidence enough, but the doctor was just the confirmation he didn’t need. 

“Hello, Harry,” She says, “I’m Dr. Lee, I’m here to help you.” 

Harry groans instead of talking, and even then, his throat still burns. Fuck, he needs some water. 

Two nurses follow behind her, moving quietly as they check the machines for something, Harry doesn’t even know what he’s here for in the first place. He just needs this pain to stop. 

“How’re you feeling, Harry?” The doctor asks him. There’s eyes on him, watching his every move and what he says. It’s not a feeling he isn’t familiar with, but it’s different to have all eyes on him on the rink than laying on a hospital bed, helpless and very much confused. 

“Hurts” Harry groans.

The doctor nods and writes something down. An extra dose of morphine, he hopes. 

“Harry, do you know why you’re here?”

Shaking his head is unbearable. It’s like he feels everything moving, except it’s painful and uncomfortable. Still, his mind blanked out and he’s got no recollection of what could’ve possibly happened that put him in this state. All he remembers is on one second, being on ice, and the next, stuck in a hospital bed feeling like complete and utter shit. 

“You've been in an accident, Harry,” She calmly says, “During your ice hockey game.”

He figured something like that happened. Something went down that left him like this, but it all happened too fast and he can barely remember anything. 

“You’ve got a mild concussion from the impact, which your helmet helped from getting a major head injury,” She says, which explains why his head’s been hurting like hell, “And unfortunately, you’ve suffered from a tear on your anterior cruciate ligament, your ACL.”

“What?” Harry croaks, eyes bulging out in shock. This can’t be it, not a fucking ACL tear. Every athlete knows that shit is a career deathbed and it can’t be happening to him, no. She’s lying, this isn’t fucking real. 

Harry eyes flit between Gemma and his mum, pleading eyes begging, hoping to tell him she's lying. Instead, they look down guiltily, avoiding meeting his eye and his heart falls. Even Richard looks away, and Harry’s never felt this devastated as reality sinks in.

Harry's blood runs faster. He’s scared, pissed off, worried, powerless and weak, and he fucking hates it. There’s so many thoughts running through his head and it’s almost too much for him. No, not almost. He’s full on freaking out, and the only reason he’s not thrashing and screaming is because he’s so physically drained, he can barely move an inch. 

He’s never felt this out of his own body. This is fucking insane, _holy fuck_. 

“I know this all very...hard to accept,” The doctor continues, picking her words wisely, “But we’re here to help you, Harry. You’ll be resting here until the swelling on your knee reduces considerably, and hopefully soon we’ll begin with physical therapy to give your knee back it’s strength and stability to hold you up and walk well.”

_Check ups. Physical therapy. What the fuck._

Harry wants to lash out. He wants to yell, kick, punch the world because this can’t be happening to him. No. He’s Harry fucking Styles. He doesn’t get severe injuries. He’s back on the rink even with bruises and busted lips, he doesn’t get sent to the hospital and feel like this. Feel like...like his life is over. 

“You’re most likely tired, so we’ll leave you to it,” The doctor says, “I’ll be back to check up on you soon, but take some time to rest. If there’s anything you need, there’s a button next to your bed to call in a nurse. I’ll see you soon.”

He wants to scream, but the words won’t leave his mouth. Just reluctant groans that burn his throat the more he grunts and utters pathetic pleads that none of this is happening.

His eyes feel damp with tears, his chest hurts the more he lays there and he can’t take the way everyone’s looking at him. Downcast eyes, worried bitten lips, dark circles under their eyes. _Fuck_.

He needs some time alone. It’s a lot for him to process, and he can’t when everyone’s looking at him like that. He’s tired, exhausted even and half asleep. This isn't real. No, it’s just a dream, a dream he’ll snap out of and wake up in a hotel room, ready to play the next day. That’s it, that makes more sense. 

“Leave,” Harry grunts. He can’t bear the way his mom is looking, how Gemma can't even look at him without choking up a bit. He can’t deal with this, no. This isn’t real. 

Anne purses her lips in reluctance, “Harry, please, we just want-”

Harry keeps grunting, stringing out words that don’t make sense in a sentence but sound exactly like he’s trying to be by himself right now. He’s exhausted, disoriented and one hair away from a full blown panic attack if people keep looking at him like that. Like...like he’s just lost everything he’s worked so hard for, for most of his life. 

He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back. It’s hurting so much, as if there’s a bunch of hammers going on inside and weights attached to his neck. 

He can barely make out some noises, hushed whispers going back and forth before Harry feels a hand on his. He doesn’t need to open them to know it’s his mum, squeezing his hand tightly to assure him she’s there for him. She’s always been the first one to support him with every dream and ambition, but right now, he can’t bear the thought of her being this distraught over him.

He feels lips press onto his forehead, and words like “Love you,” whispered against his skin. He wants to say something back, assure her he loves her too, but the words are tight in his throat and _fuck_ , he just needs to be alone. 

Harry watches with heavy eyelids as everyone leaves. His sister looks back and Harry feels a pang in his chest. If it was the other way around, he’d stay by their side the entire time, but it’s not the same and he just can’t be around them right now, not until…

 _Fuck_. 

  
The door clicks shut and suddenly Harry’s all alone. 

He wants to take a breath of fresh air, but his lungs feel constrained under a heavy weight surrounding his entire chest. He’s not sure what’s weighing him down, if it’s his own body weight, the numb pain thrumming all over or if it’s just the overwhelming feeling of having his life completely changed in a matter of seconds - seconds he can’t even recall for the life of him.

He was in the rink, skating, playing and suddenly he felt a sharp pang of pain and it all turned black. He must’ve hit his head hard if he can’t even remember that moment, or maybe it’s his own brain blanking on him so he wouldn’t think that moment over and all the what ifs. 

He thinks of them anyways. 

What if he went left instead of right? What if he focused more on this, rather than the puck heading his way, what if-

Harry lets out a choked cry. 

What the fuck did he even do to end up in a place like this, all fucking alone and tied down to a fucking hospital bed with needles attached to him all over? 

_Why_. 

And it’s not like Harry can just turn his mind off, or distract himself with something else. There’s fucking noise everywhere - the tv, the machines keeping check of his vitals, the screams in his head - and it’s all becoming way too much for him. 

He wants to get up and leave, go back to the rink and win the fucking game like he wanted to, except he fucking _can’t_. His body feels so fucking heavy and even moving a hand takes so much effort, he’s exhausted by the time he brings it up to rest on his stomach and that alone terrifies him completely. 

This is too much for him to handle. He can barely fucking move his body and this isn’t him. No, not _the_ Harry Styles, the fucking _beast_ at professional Ice Hockey. He shouldn’t be stuck here, he should be knocking teeth out and bringing home a ton of victories under his belt. Not fucking stranded _here_. 

This isn’t real. It _can’t_ be real, is the thing. It’s just a dream. Just a really horrible, gut wrenching dream that he’ll soon wake up from. That’s it. It needs to be it. 

His breath quickens and he can feel his eyes start to tear up in frustration. He’s never wanted to scream so much in his life. He wants to get up, go outside in fucking scrubs, fucking _naked_ if he has to, and just fucking scream his lungs out. 

Harry's all alone with his thoughts and he’s fucking freaking out, but he’s got no energy to even move a finger. He wants, _needs_ , to do something but whatever is attached to his arm is making him sleepy and tired, even if he’s anything but. It’s weird, this rush of adrenaline going through his veins while also feeling the most exhausted he’s ever been. Even his long hours at the rink don’t even compare to what he’s feeling right now, and he fucking wishes he never knew what this feeling was. 

His thoughts become sparse, no train of thought as his mind runs from one place to another. He’s so tired, _God_ , he’s never felt his body this heavy, never been this exhausted, especially over doing nothing. He’s just been sleeping, for hours, days, who fucking cares, it feels like an eternity and he can’t take it anymore. There’s tears in his eyes, he’s fucking scared shitless but he can’t-

He needs to...needs to...to...

Harry’s eyes close before he knows it, and maybe it’s better off that way.

——--

When Harry blinks his eyes awake, he doesn’t know where he is for a few seconds. The walls are empty around him, almost completely dark since there’s only a little light over him lighting up this box. 

He’s confused for a second, still half dreaming and feeling as groggy as ever as his eyes blink open, and that’s when it hits him. He’s in the fucking hospital. _Still_. 

He hears the machines first, beeping away as any trace of sleep leaves his body, and it sends a pang right on his chest. He feels the pain next, numbed out, but still very much there and a reminder of what had happened to him, and the sole reason he’s not currently warming up at a rink, like he should.

Harry’s so fucking uncomfortable. He can barely even recognize himself, trapped in this body that feels like anything but himself. This isn’t who he is, nor who he ever wanted to be and he feels a strong urge to just...crawl out of his skin and fucking do something other than lay back with barely any mobility. 

He takes in a choked breath. There’s no tv on, so a nurse must've turned it off while he slept and he wishes he had something to distract him from his thoughts. He feels pain, both emotional and physical, and so fucking uncomfortable in his own skin. He just wants to wake up from this nightmare, but he’s fucking _stuck_.

Harry would give anything to go back to those first few seconds of unknowing bliss.

Disgruntled, Harry turns his stiff neck to the side and he’s surprised to see a body all curled up on himself on the room's armchair. It takes only one second to figure out who it was, and it’s bittersweet to see Louis, looking soft and sleepy on that chair. He’s got his legs tucked up and dozed off as if he’d been waiting for Harry to wake up. It’s nice to see a familiar face for a second, especially Louis’, but that also implies Louis seeing him like this, and it stirs an ugly feeling in Harry’s stomach. 

Harry’s lost track of time, his only source being the window of his hospital room. It’s dark out, but he’s got no way of knowing if it’s seven PM or three in the morning. The light’s on, though, and he knows Louis hates sleeping with the lights on, so he’s either exhausted or faking it.

The little snore proves he’s actually managed to fall asleep, but Harry does nothing to wake him up. He can’t anyway, he’s still attached to machines and feels discomfort if he moves them too much, and his throat still feels scratchy. All painful reminders of his current situation, which is feeling less like a dream, and more like a nightmare he can’t quite seem to wake up from. Even the clinical white hospital walls make Harry sick to his stomach. He actually might throw up if he keeps looking at the empty space on the wall. 

“Lou…” He grunts quietly, wanting his attention, but also not wanting to bother him. He makes sleeping on that couch seem so comfortable, but Harry knows it probably isn’t. It probably doesn’t even begin to compare to those soft hotel beds he should be sleeping on, or his own bed at his flat, and fuck. Harry’s clenching his fist on the bed sheets before he knows it. 

_Why. Why. Why. Why me. What the fuck am I doing here._

The TV’s on, barely muted and playing a show about getting married to strangers. Harry tries to distract himself with it, but it’s hard not to remember his own reality and send his mind into a spiral of endless possibilities, none of them ending well for him. He can’t focus on one pointless drama without being reminded of his own. He feels irritable and in the mood to get his energy out in the gym, but even the thought of standing up exhausts him so all he can do is suffer in place. 

_I need to fucking leave._

Harry knows that that injury was a death sentence for a lot of ice hockey players and that fucking scares him. Ice Hockey was his entire life, he’s played it ever since he was a kid and to never play again terrifies him. It’s his dream, _fuck,_ he had so much to lose and now he’s lost it. God, _fuck_ this can’t be real no. He can’t, he can’t-

“Harry?” A little voice croaks from beside him. His breath hitches as he looks to the side. Louis blinks awake, before he realizes Harry is up and opens his eyes, clumsily gets off the chair and to his side. 

“Harry”

“Lou..” He croaks. It’s silent for a second. There’s so many things Harry wants to say, but there's a lot he doesn’t want to hear too. The stilted quiet feels heavy and tense, a lot being said with just a look and Harry's head is still fogged up by his own thoughts and the drowsiness he can’t escape. 

“Lou,” He chokes. 

Louis’ brows furrow in worry and hesitantly, he brings a hand up to fit against Harry's right cheek. It feels warm and comforting, and instinctively, Harry nuzzles against it, seeking comfort from Louis's smaller and daintier hand. 

“How are you feeling?” Louis asks. Careful. Calculated. Hesitant. The silence weighs heavy in the air as he waits patiently for Harry to reply. 

“Need to...need to go.” Harry cracked, “Game to win…”

Louis furrows his brows at Harry's discomfort, and opens his mouth almost like he’s gonna say something else, but stops himself before he can. He bites his lower lip before moving his hand from Harry's face, pushing some of his hair away and tucking it behind his ear. 

“You should get some rest,” Louis says. 

Fuck, all Harry's done is rest. 

He wouldn’t mind hanging out with Louis, but Harry’s tired, exhausted even and without any idea for how long he’s been here. He’s not sure if he wants to know either. The bags under Louis’ eyes don’t give anything away, but Harry feels like he’s been here for years.

“S’all I’ve been doing,” He grunts, before he feels an itch in his throat for speaking more than he should’ve. He coughs it away, but it makes his chest hurt, and sends a pang on his back. Louis eyes him worriedly the entire time.

“W-Water,” Harry chokes. 

“Okay, I’ll bring you some,” Louis says, “But you really need to get some rest now. We’ll talk when you’re feeling better.”

Will he even be better? 

“Tell me.”

“Tell you, what?” Louis frowns in confusion. 

“Tell me this isn't real,” Harry croaks, “That I can get out tomorrow and go play.”

Louis looks away, and it hurts Harry more than it should’ve. Why is everyone fucking doing that lately, why can’t they just look at him. Why?

“I’m sorry, Harry,” He says. Louis hesitates his hand in the air, before bringing it where he meant it, over Harry’s hand. Harry stiffly turns his palm over so they properly hold hands, squeezing each other tightly. It feels good for a second, comforting to feel Louis’ warm tiny hand under his much larger one. Any other day, Harry’d be freaking out over this, heart doing jumping jacks and stomach erupting in butterflies, but now all he’s getting is a false sense of security.

Louis doesn’t answer his question, but silence speaks louder than words as Louis’ squeezes his hand, and Harry knows he’s ruined. 

His hand feels clammy and stiff as it fits with Louis’. There's a familiar feeling in how much smaller louis’ hands are, softer, intact, whereas Harry's are calloused and weak. If Harry closes his eyes, he can pretend they’re back in a hotel room, holding hands in the quiet of the night, but opening his eyes again is torture when he’s faced with white walls and sad blue eyes. He can’t fucking bare it. 

“You’ll be okay,” Louis assures him. He squeezes Harry’s hand, but Harry barely matches him and hopefully he next time he opens his eyes, this was all just a stupid fucking dream.

\----

It wasn’t a dream after all, and though Harry’s concept of time still is anything but accurate, it’s obvious this wasn’t a sick nightmare when every time he wakes up he sees the same white walls, hears the same beeping, feels the same pain. 

And Harry hasn't been able to accept it. 

His family tried to come see him again, and though Harry’s still resistant, he’s been able to handle their presence for a few hours before it all becomes too much. His mum comes by more often than Gems, and when she’s not quietly watching over Harry, while very badly pretending she’s watching whatever soap opera is on tv, she tells him about little things going on in her life, mostly about her cat and what she and her friends have been up to. 

She doesn’t say a word about Harry’s career or any news about how the games are going no matter how much Harry insists. She always changes the subject or becomes very tight lipped and Harry can’t decide if he’s thankful for it or if it only makes him feel a lot worse than he’s already feeling. 

His attitude has been a shitty excuse of piss poor behavior. Everyone who walks in, he pushes away, or is rude for no fucking reason and forces them to leave the second he gets pissed off, which has been happening a lot more than usual. He’s quite stubborn and hot tempered when he wants to be, but being stuck in a fucking hospital bed feels like his temper was on steroids.

Even Louis hasn’t been saved from his insufferableness. Harry would sometimes get really frustrated and with no one else in the room but Louis, Harry would snap back, push food away when Louis would place it on the tray for him, and just overall be a huge dick when Louis wasn’t even deserving of that. 

He never was, is the thing. Harry always ends up feeling sick to his stomach when he sees the dejected look Louis gives him, and the worst part is how Louis tries to cover it up, but Harry fucking notices every time, and fuck, it’s not like he’s proud of his shitty behavior. He isn’t, and he always apologizes right after, being well aware of how much of a dick he’s being. 

This stupid fucking accident just turned his whole life upside down, and all he does all day is sit around doing jack shit, and it’s making him restless and angry. Louis’ been nothing but patient, and the last thing Harry wants to do is wear him fucking thin, but it’s being a lot harder than he wanted it to be. 

“I can’t fucking deal with this shit anymore,” Harry grunts.

He’s been in the hospital for two days now, according to Louis, and it’s been the longest two days of his life. It’s absolute torture for him. He’s been stuck in bed, only ever able to get up and take a piss, but always with the help of _at least_ two nurses, which is humiliating for him. 

Other than his family and Louis, the TV serves as his main outside source. Well, as much of an outside source as real housewives of whatever could be. He hasn’t been given his phone, by Richards demands, and Harry’s not necessarily attached to his phone, but he’s bored most of the time and a small distraction from the pain would be great. 

Louis had accidentally let it slip that Richard isn’t allowing any news from ice hockey to get to Harry. He found this out when he’d asked for his phone back, and turns out Richard doesn’t want him to go googling and making his situation worse. Which only proves to Harry that he’s really ruined his career, and his team is probably fucked. Well, not really since they’re all pretty good, but Harry knows his value and skill and fuck- 

How much worse could this shit even get? 

Harry can’t remember the last time he’s been bed ridden. It’s foreign to him and he feels restless despite having all the time in the world to rest. He can’t though. The bed isn’t comfortable, the needle in his wrist pokes a weird way at the slightest move and there's always nurses and doctors coming in and out of the room and in between long visits from his mum and Richard, Harry's barely caught a wink. 

“This fucking sucks,” Harry grunts as he feeds himself some soup. It’s borderline bland and too runny, tasting too much like cabbage for his liking and not doing any favors for the hospital food trademark. It’d be worse if there was someone else feeding him though, he already feels incompetent as is.

“Just another spoonful, Harry,'' Louis says from beside him. He’s pulled the chair closer to him so he could be there if he needed to, but all that Harry needed was his knee to recover and a head that wasn't mildly concussed. Every time he says it out loud, Louis gives him a sad frown and nothing else. 

“I've had enough, I'm full,” He says, pushing the tray aside. There’s still jell-o and a bowl of fruit looking at him, but he’s too repulsed to even give another glance. He’s barely managed to eat much ever since he got admitted. 

Louis sighs, getting up from his seat and pulling the tray back to where it was, “You’re not gonna get your strength back if you don’t get your proteins.”

“Fuck that shit,” Harry grunts, “I’ll never play again. What’s the fucking point.”

Harry turns his head to the side and looks out the window, mostly to avoid Louis’ look. He’s worried and hates it when Harry gets into this asshole-ish, self-deprecating mood, but he mostly just sighs and leaves him alone. He understands the gravity of the situation, and Harry would appreciate that if he didn’t feel so awful after.

There’s nothing going on outside that Harry can distract himself with, and yet he still keeps his eyes glued to the window. The wind blows through trees, cars pass by down the road. Nothing worth this much attention.

“You still need your strength, Harry,” Louis insists, “You can't live off of morphine.”

He might be right, but Harry isn't in the mood to see things for how they are. He’s in a shitty mood and he knows it, but _fuck_. He can’t find it in him to ignore his own feelings. He can’t take out any pent up emotions in the gym so what else can he do other than either bottling his feelings up or taking it out on people who don’t deserve to be handling his shitty mood. 

He does make the mistake of glancing at Louis though, and despite it all, his pout breaks Harry's heart all over again, and though his stomach feels full, he just can’t see Louis like this. 

“Fine. I’ll have the jell-o for when I'm hungry.”

Louis smiles, and if Harry wasn’t on his worst, maybe he’d smile back.

\-----

Harry’s always prided himself in being pretty level headed and calm in serious matters, keeping rationality ahead of any personal opinions, but for some reason, he can’t put this energy into his own problems. 

He’s still very much in denial, still hopeful he’ll wake up one day in a hotel room with a couple of hours to spare before being needed at the rink. Instead, Harry wakes up sweating from nightmares and getting high off those first few seconds where he can’t place where he is. 

But then it all crashes down all over again and the bed feels stiff, the beeps don’t cease and it gets a bit too much sometimes. Or all the times, if he’s being completely honest. It’s just so overwhelming and even with little distractions with his family or Louis, it’s all nice and butterflies before reality sinks in again. 

In a way, forgetting his current condition for a few seconds, and suddenly realizing feels a lot worse than being hyper aware, with nothing else to do other than lie back and let his mind go absolutely haywire. At least that way, he doesn’t feel that twinge of pain when he remembers that what he’s worked so hard for for most of his life got taken away from him in just a few seconds. 

With Louis around him most of the time now, those moments of blissful ignorance happen more often, which put Harry in a much shittier mood even though he knows Louis has nothing to blame for. In fact, Harry even feels for him, for having to endure Harry’s stubborn temper, as well as his fitful nightmares and the one he’s currently living. Louis’ been really patient through it all, that Harry doesn’t even know how he hasn’t left yet. It’s a lot to experience himself, but it’s also a lot to put on someone's shoulders. 

While Harry was half asleep the other day - though Harry’s notion of time is non existed, so it could’ve been a week ago or even today - he overheard his main doctor, Dr. Lee, tell Louis how in Harry’s case, this accident was a lot to process and to accept, so any reluctance wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

Harry squeezes his eyes tighter and pretends he didn’t hear a thing, but even as time has passed, it still crosses through his mind. 

And it’s not far from the truth at all. Whenever Harry’s not too doped up and tired to even think rationally, he’s been so freaked out and anxious that he pushes everyone away, family friends, everyone. He can’t even think of himself as injured, and he can’t bear the thought of people he loves, respects, or even is just an acquaintance to see him like this. 

It’s...it’s _embarrassing_ for Harry, how in all his years of professionally playing, his first real accident ended up being his most fatal one. Now, he thinks of all the chipped teeth and dislocated shoulders he complained about and how he’d kill for a million of those instead of a fucking tear in his ACL. 

“Fuck,” Harry grunts as he feels the needle in his arm get jolted around as the nurse replaces his intravenous morphine medication.

“Sorry, love,” She says, without glancing up at him, “Just a little pinch.”

That doesn't ease anything. It still hurts like a bitch as she swaps the tubes out. Harry doesn’t even have any apprehensions towards needles, his tattoos show that well enough. He just happened to land with a nurse who's clumsy with her hands and who just wants to go home. 

“How are his vitals?” Dr. Lee asks another nurse in the room. There's so many people in the room, yet Harry’s never felt this alone and vulnerable.

“Vitals seem fine. Nothing out of the ordinary” Doctor says, “Great! It looks like things are looking good for you, Mr. Styles.”

Harry and Louis share a nervous look. Well, Louis looks nervous, Harry just looks like he’s about to bite someone's head off, if only he had the strength in his body and ability to do so. 

“Harry’s actually recovering well, but we need him to be off the IV so that he can regain his independence.” She explains, “So, he’ll need to eat more on his own, and then we can start on physical therapy.”

“That's great,” Louis says before Harry could even react. It’s funny how they are on opposite sides of the half glass full spectrum. Louis seems elated with this progress, whereas Harry doesn't even see the need if he can’t play. Being able to walk around would be nice, though, but he doesn’t want to just walk around, is the thing. 

He’s about to say something, probably complain, but Louis senses it and stops him before he gets the chance by cutting him off. “Okay great! Harry can't wait to start”

“That's good to know,” The doctor smiles. It doesn’t falter when she sees Harry look away to avoid her glance. “Well, if there’s anything you need, just click on the buzzer and a nurse will be with you.”

“Thanks!” Louis says, overenthusiastically to make up for Harry's lack of response. 

With a polite smile, she and the nurses leave.

“Physical therapy! Isn’t that great” Louis smiles as he turns to Harry, clearly happy as if he doesn't sense the dark cloud above Harry's head. He does, though, but Louis’ good at diverting Harry’s attention to less depressing thoughts, “I figured you’d be more excited.”

Louis hardly ever says the wrong thing, but this time, he slipped up. 

“I don't need physical therapy,” Harry insists, “That's for serious injuries. I’m fine.”

“Harry…” Louis sighs, “I’m sorry, but it’s true. You’ve been in a serious accident, Harry.”

Harry bites his lip, fighting the urge to talk back and argue with him. It's pointless, Harry knows it, but he can’t just simply accept he's in the hospital. Louis knows how much playing means to Harry, he can’t possibly think Harry would welcome his new fate with open arms. It’s just not realistic, fuck. 

“S’not,” Harry says, biting his lip, and for once he looks away, feeling Louis’ burning eyes on him. He knows he’s lying, knows he’s suffered something big and life changing but maybe, maybe if Harry tells himself he’s fine, he’ll actually be fine.

“Harry-“

A phone rings. It's Louis'. They both are quiet before Louis realizes Harry won't budge and sighs.

“I’ll be back soon,” He promises.

He’s alone again, just him and the TV. But he can barely have a minute to wallow in self pity - since that’s all he gets to do lately - before a knock comes on the door again. Harry wasn’t expecting anyone and nurses were just here. Louis doesn't knock anymore when he comes, but he calls out for whoever it is to come in, and he’s surprised to say the least as sees Richard walk in. 

“Hi Harry,” He says, a somber tone lacing his voice. His black suit makes it look like he’s heading to a funeral. Harry's career’s funeral, maybe. 

“Hi,” He replies shortly. 

“How’re you feeling?” Richard asks. He looks stiff and awkward, which is different from his usual confident and a bit of a dick self. This is different and Harry finds himself suddenly missing how much of an ass Richard was.

“Fucking dandy,” He spits.

Richard flinches, but the look on his face shows he was already expecting this from the ice hockey player. Well, ex hockey player by the way things were looking. 

“I wanted to come by, check in on you.”

“For what?” Harry scoffs, “I cant fucking play anymore, why would you care?”

Richard sighs, “Harry, I know I don't show it but I do value you a lot as a person, maybe more than a player. You’ve been by my side for years, don't think i wouldn't be concerned on a personal level over this.”

He’s right. And Harry would weather eat his own tongue rather than to admit it out loud. He’s just bitter and projecting.

“How are you feeling, Harry?” He asks again, “Seriously.”

Harry’s never really had a heart to heart like this with Richard, it’s been mostly business talk with him, and anything personal was always somehow related to ice hockey. It’s not necessarily a bad thing to keep things professional with your manager, at least most of the time, but it’s kinda weird to be remotely vulnerable to someone Harry’s known for years and was yet to open up like this.

Harry sighs. “S’painful, in every single way. My leg fucking hurts, head hurts, back hurts, everything hurts. Need more morphine but they won’t give me it. Fuck, I just want to go fucking play again.”

Richard nods as he listens and lets the silence linger after Harry’s done. Harry doesn't know whether he doesn't know what to say or if just listening to his rant is enough. It feels good to say it all out loud, but it lasts only a few seconds before it crashes down and the reality falls on him again, weighing him down and making everything way too overwhelming. 

Harry’s still hoping this is all a dream, but the hours stretch into days and the rope he’s holding onto is quickly tearing apart and it’ll be no time until he’s forced to let go and face the harsh truth.

“Why did you come here today, Richard?” Harry asks, voice defeated and already expecting the worst. Though venting felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, Harry can always tell when there's something Richard isn’t saying. One of the perks of having the same manager for years. 

“Logan's replaced you,” Richard says, “Thought you’d hear it from me first. I know how much you hate the kid.”

There’s a lot in that sentence that makes Harry’s stomach churn and hit with a surge of adrenaline that makes him want to get out of bed and throw Logan off the team for a while. 

Harry’s eyes bulge and he clenches his fist, "Are you fucking kidding me? _Logan_? Couldn't find someone else more fitting?”

“It’s hard to replace the best, Harry,” Richard chuckles lightly, but Harry’s not in the mood for airy giggles, Richard catches on quickly and lets the smile fall off his face. 

“Sorry, Harry.” He says. “They're looking for new players, but it’s the middle of the season and they couldn't exactly pick a new player. Had to work with what they had”

A part of Harry wanted the season to end then and there and only start back again when he’s able to play. But there’s a big chance his gaming days are over for him and he’s witnessed a lot of accidents and none vouched for the cancellation of the season. He wouldn't get special treatment despite his name, skill and hard work.

He gets it. He really does, but he’s irrationally - or very much rationally - angry a subpar player replaced him, and though his team is great, he fears their team will fall flat without him.

His team. He needs to know how they’re doing. 

“How's the team?” He asks, “Don’t even know how many fucking games I’ve missed out on.”

“Harry, I think there's more important things to worry about,'' Richard stops him, which surprises him. After all these confessions, what's the problem with a couple more?

“Tell me,” Harry grunts. 

Richard sighs, reluctant to answer, but does nonetheless. “The Hawks are doing good, they're still in the season.”

“Okay, good,” Harry nods, “I need to check the stats, give me my phone.”

“No, Harry.” He flat out denies, “Can't give you any unnecessary stress.”

Harry’s little flame of anger begins to burn into a full blown forest fire. 

“It’s my fucking life,” He argues, sitting up and grunting as a flash of pain spurs down his back. 

“Harry, get back to bed.” Richard warns. 

“It’s my fucking life,” He repeats, ignorning Richard’s requests and leaning closer to him, ignoring the flare of pain coming up his back.

“Harry, you’re still getting paid, if that's a concern of yours as well.” 

“I don't care about money,” He spits, “It was never about the money. I just want to play. Now give me my phone!”

It’s true. The money, though very handy when Harry's mum lost her job, was never Harry's priority. He always wanted a huge career in the rink, and while that came along with the money, it was always about playing the game and not about the monetary gain. The money was always a plus that came with it. 

“This is my whole fucking life, I’ve dedidicated years on this, I deserve to-”

The door of his room opens, cutting him off as two nurses come in. 

“Excuse us, Mr. Styles?” The first nurse says, “It’s time for your shower, do you want it now or do you need a few more minutes?”

Getting a shower wasn't the same thing. Since he couldn't put any weight on his legs just yet on his own, showering had to be accommodated so he could do it in bed, which made Harry feel degraded and incapable of doing things himself. 

A week ago, Harry didn't even blink when it came to showering, and now it’s a whole thing he can’t even do himself. It’s difficult for him not to feel so….useless and helpless when he’s never had an injury that left him like this before. This isn't who he is, _what_ he is. He can do this himself. He could stand if he fucking wanted to. He didn't need anyone to help him, especially to shower.

But it’s a good enough segway to get Richard out of the room for a good amount of time. He’s pissed Harry off already and Harry could do without seeing him at least til his anger dies down. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Richard says goodbye but Harry barely acknowledges him, too wrapped up in his anger.

The two nurses go through the motions, checking Harry's vitals and accommodating him. In all honesty, Harry hates every second of it only because he can barely believe he’s in this situation. He took himself for granted and now he needs two nurses to help and watch him run a wet cloth through his body. It’s a weird feeling, helplessness, or something like that. 

“So, how's your back?” One of the nurses asks him. Harry can’t tell if it’s genuine curiosity or just something to fill up the quiet room.

“It hurts when I move a bit.” He admits. 

“Yeah that's mostly because you’re laying down but also because you got hit in your back.” The nurse explains, “Still, do you think you can wash your upper half?”

Harry wants to say yes, wants to say he can do it, but would it be more embarrassing to admit that no, he probably couldn't given the pain and how weak his limbs feel, or to attempt to do it himself and struggle so much the nurses have no other option but to pitch in and give him a helping hand? It’s their job after all and Harry doubts it’s the first time they’ve helped a patient get a bath, but _fuck_ it’s hard to refer to himself as a patient in the hospital. He already feels so bad about himself, how worse could it be to admit defeat? 

“I think,” He swallows, “I think I could use some help.”

Admitting is the first step of recovery, or so Harry's heard. He chokes back a sob when the nurses start, setting a bowl of warm water and towels beside him and helping him undress from some tshirts Louis brought him so he wouldn’t have to wear those horrible scrubs. 

It’s the first time Harry actually sees his knee. It’s wrapped up with gauze and considerably more swollen than his right leg. There’s traces of purple bruises climbing up his leg, and Harry decides not to let his eyes linger. 

The process is quicker than what Harry initially thought. Other than that sinking feeling in his stomach, as the nurses watch him with careful eyes, Harry feels somewhat better. The nurses quietly clean him off, and Harry can admit he feels fresher than usual, but still just as frustrated and itchy to get the fuck out. It’s like he gets little seconds of peace before the reality comes crashing down.

A nurse is wiping off his naked chest when Louis walks in without warning. He stops in his tracks, meeting Harry's eyes. Immediately, a pink tint shows up on his face.

“Oh sorry! I didn't know you weren't-”

“That's okay hun,” One of the nurses says, “We’re almost done. You can sit right there and we’ll be out soon.”

Louis stutters and blushes as he sits down. Harry wonders if him being naked was the reason for that pink tinted blush that rested so prettily on Louis’ cheeks. The sight itself makes Harry feel less embarrassed about his own situation. 

When the nurses finally leave, Louis gets up from the armchair to stand next to Harry’s bed. 

“Sorry about that, didn't mean to barge in.” He mumbles.

Up closer, Louis looks sad. His undereyes look a bit puffy and his eyes rimmed red. Harry doesn't know why or if something happened with his family or if it was about Harry himself. Harry knows he’s been stressed lately because of...the accident, but he’d hate to be the reason for his tears. Louis shouldn't even be sad in the first place. 

“S’okay,” Harry says, “You missed quite the show.”

Louis’ eyes widen. It’s probably the first attempt at a joke Harry's made ever since he got put in the hospital. Louis’ blush turns into a quiet giggle, that Harry can’t quite get enough of. 

“I’m sure I didn't miss out on much,” Harry smiles, matching his and it feels light and easy. Harry often forgets about his own problems when he hangs around Louis. It’s just so easy to get lost in him, in the best way possible. 

So easy, that Harry almost misses what he says.

“Sorry, what?”

“I was just thinking...how about having your friends over? Niall's been telling me he wants to visit but security isn’t allowing him.” He suggests.

The thought of Harry's friends seeing him like this brings a new wave of anxiety out. Harrys not afraid of being vulnerable and open about his feelings, but he’s never been like this - in pain, lying on a hospital bed and having lost such a huge part of himself. He’s not sure if he can handle his friends seeing him like this. 

It’s daunting to let people see him like this. He’d rather they didn't, and just text them how he’s feeling, but he’s got no phone rights because he can’t be trusted. Harry’s still struggling to wrap his head around this, and having his friends, best mates from years, see him like this makes it real, only a lot worse than it already is. At least when he’s alone there's no sympathetic eyes looking down at him, as if looking sad would bring back Harry’s ability to be back on ice. His knee fucking hurts at every twitch, and the more hours that pass, the less faith Harry has that he’ll ever play again.

So yeah, seeing his friends again is a lot more daunting than he’d like. 

Still, Harry can’t help himself around Louis. He’s got pretty eyes and a soft smile. Harry wants to keep and grow, so he thinks it over and okay, maybe seeing one or two friends wouldn't be that horrible. 

“Okay,” Harry agrees, “I’ll let the nurses know they can come.”

Harry hopes he won’t regret this decision, but the smile on Louis’ face convinces him that he won't. 

\-------

Harrys’ skating, gliding down the empty rink by himself. It’s probably late at night since there’s no one around, but Harry doesn't mind it. It’s peaceful and he can work on his techniques as much as he can without worrying about breaking someone's teeth in between. One of the perks of his late night practicing. 

He skates, mindlessly drifting down the ice, before he makes a turn. Suddenly, the bleachers are all filled up, crowds cheering. Looking out across the ice, Harry seems to be the only player there.

_What-_

His shoulder gets nudged, and he’s pretty sure that if he was skating beside the plexi board, he’d most likely get smashed into it. 

“Hey! Watch it!” he hears, except he’s still alone. Harry whirls around wildly, seeing no one.

“C’mon Styles,” a familiar voice shouts, “Don't just stand there! Do something!”

Harry’s confusion hits a certain level, but he still follows along. The rink is filled with players, gliding around and staring at Harry expectantly. There’s eyes on him everywhere, everyone looking his way and chanting his name. Harry feels uneasy but starts skating apprehensively. His hands feel light and a shiver runs through his body. 

He doesn't have his stick anymore and he’s standing completely naked on ice. 

_What the hell?_

“Come on Styles!” He hears someone yell.

“You're worthless!”

“Shit fucking player!”

“Harry!”

Everyone’s looking. Harry tries to skate but gets checked against the plexi, body slamming against it. With nothing to protect the impact, he feels his body break, collapsing-

“Harry!”

He wakes with a jolt. Harry’s gasping for air, eyes wide and shaky and struggling to be able to focus on anything. He’s disoriented, not quite sure where he’s at, nor where he was before, and he’s completely freaking out.

“Harry,” The voice says again, except it’s much clearer now and rings familiarity that comforts him. A gentle hand places itself on his arm, weighing him down, bringing him back down to earth.

“Harry, it’s okay,” A familiar voice coos, “You’re fine, you’re good.”

It’s Louis, blue eyes and sweet high pitch to his voice speaking over his rapid breaths, but Harry can hardly process them.

_Breathe, Harry._

“Fuck!” He hears himself choke out, “Fuck, shit, fuck.”

His breaths quiet down and it’s easier to make out what Louis’ saying. He repeats things like “ _calm down, breathe with me_ ” and eventually, Harry’s chest rises normally. Though his mind is still trying to figure out what's real or not, Harry's back to earth and clutching Louis’ hand tightly, too tightly for Louis’ smaller, daintier hand. 

Immediately, he lets off some pressure and falls back against the bed. He’s so worn out even though he just woke up and he just wants to sleep all over again. 

“Harry,” Louis’ soft voice calls for him. He doesn’t want to open his eyes, but he eventually lets up when Louis doesn’t stop calling for him. 

He sees him first, close and worried and still holding his hand, but then Harry's eyes avert and there’s Niall standing beside him, face shut and looking like he’s out of words. Harry feels embarrassed all over again, self conscious and vulnerable as Niall looks at him. He wants to hide away, cover himself and bury himself in a hole away from those eyes.

“Leave,” Harry chokes.

“Harry.” Niall starts.

“I’m sorry,” Harry squeezes his eyes shut, “Please, leave.”

Things go quiet and Harry doesn't open his eyes for the sake of curiosity. There’s hushed whispers, reluctance, he can tell, coming from Louis. It doesn't last long. Niall stops any argument and agrees to leave. It sucks, but Harry just can’t. Not yet.   
  
As he hears his room door close, he knows it’s back to square one.

Harry opens his eyes again and sees Louis, looking not so pleased with him, mixed with something Harry can't quite tell.

\-----

Harry doesn't see anyone for a while, other than the occasional nurse. Harry could use the time alone. He gets lost in his thoughts quite often, but at least he goes in and out of sleep enough to hardly remember what he thought about, but it’s a vicious cycle. Harry’s not sure if this is better than dealing with actual people, actual facts rather than little voices in his head. 

The nightmares haven’t returned, but Harry’s still scared they will every time he falls asleep. He sees that day so clearly now, feels that pain so vividly and it feels like he’s living that day over and over again in some sort of sick, vicious cycle. 

Harry doesn't get his phone or laptop to distract himself with, because Richard thinks Harry's just going to check up on what he’s missing out on in ice hockey, and he wants to avoid sending him into a spiral. Harry’s not even allowed to check up any sports channel on the TV, which sucks for the most part, but at the same time, Harry wouldn’t know how he would react if he saw himself in an old game rerun. It probably wouldn’t end well, and he’s not sure if he’d like to find out.

Harry appreciates how people listened when he said he needed time by himself, but he stared at the clock and somehow always ended up thinking about his career. Fifteen years down the drain all because of a stupid accident. He’s not even sure who did it; he needs to ask Richard, but then again, what's the point? It's not like knowing who did it would magically restore his knee and fix any bit of pain in his body for the rest of his life. 

Louis has barely mentioned his situation with Niall since it occurred the other day. His mum and sister have been over to visit, but Harry could only last a few minutes before asking them to leave. He loves them so much, but he can’t stand to let people see him like this.

“How are you feeling today?” Louis asks. It feels like that’s all that Harry’s been asked lately and he’s getting tired of it. Nothings changed, he feels horrible and still in pain, and it’s not like it’ll change in a day, or any time soon. 

“I’m fine,” Is what he always says, and he’s always insistent on it because what else can he say? If he says he feels like shit, all he gets are furrowed brows and a squeeze on his hand, if he’s lucky enough to have Louis in the room. “I’m ready to leave, actually.”

Louis gives him a sad smile, reaching out a hand to comb through the rat's nest excuse of his hair. How Louis isn’t scrunching his face at how oily it feels goes beyond him, but he ignores it in favor of appreciating Louis’ soft hand. 

“You’ll be out soon,” Louis smiles, “I’m sure I shouldn’t tell you, but I heard patients who cooperate in their exercises go home faster than those who don’t even put in any effort.”

It could very much be a trap, what Louis’ saying, but it sounds so genuine coming from his assistant that Harry feels a bit of hope in his stomach. There's just something about Louis’ presence that gives him a spark of this feeling.

“Who’s your source?” Harry asks.

“I can’t tell you,” Louis shrugs, “Signed an NDA and all that.”

Harry snorted, “Must be a good one, then.”

Louis smiles, takes his hands off Harry's hair and traces a finger along his hand. The difference is obvious, Harry’s calloused rough hand and Louis’ softer, daintier, smaller one. 

Earlier today, during the morning check ups mixed with breakfast that comes in too early, Harry got the confirmation that he’d be getting his first physical therapy treatment sometime during the afternoon. It made him a bit more nervous than he’d like to admit, since he was yet to actually stand up on his own, much less put any effort on his limbs.

“Don’t be nervous,” Louis says.

“I’m not,” Harry says, “Just can’t fucking wait to get up and walk.”

It’s maybe the first time Harry accepts he’s got a limiting injury, though he doesn’t quite say it like that. It’s still a big thing, though, and the tension in the air feels like that. 

Luckily, they don’t sit on it too long before the door opens, signaling the PT. He’s bringing a wheelchair with him and a nurse beside him and Harry doesn’t like it one bit. He doesn’t like having to use a wheelchair as opposed to walking to wherever it is he’ll be getting his physical therapy. 

“Are you ready Mr. Styles?”

He takes a big sigh, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Okay, great!” He smiles, more enthusiastically than Harry’d like, “Firstly, I’ll ask you a few questions and then move to the physical assessment, okay?” 

Harry nods and answers his questions, all ranging from how much in pain he is to what his typical day was like - physical exertion wise. The questioning doesn’t last long, but it still felt like forever.

“So, I understand you haven't been much out of bed other than going to the bathroom, so I’m a bit concerned about putting a lot of weight onto your knee for now.” The trainer says, “But we’ll work on it with time. May I take a look at your knee?”

Harry nods, letting him push the blanket covering his leg out of the way. Harry’s knee is still pretty swollen, but the bruises have started to disappear. It doesn’t look as nasty as it did when Harry first looked at it, but it’s still far from looking any better.

“It’s still pretty swollen, which is to be expected,” He says, “But don’t worry, based on your check ups, you’re on the right track to recovery. The R.I.C.E. principle is one of the best ways to decrease swelling in your knee. This involves rest, ice, compression, and elevation of your knee, which you’ll need to continue doing when you’re discharged, alright?”

All this talk about recovery should make Harry feel a lot better about his current situation, but it doesn’t. There’s so much work to do and hardly any motivation to push him through it. There’s a permanent frown stuck to his face, and a gut wrenching feeling in his stomach. 

“After an ACL tear, your quadriceps muscle on the top of your thigh virtually shuts off and stops working properly.” He explains, “One of the main goals of physical therapy after a knee injury is to regain normal quadriceps control, and we’ll either use a form of electrical stimulation called NMES or Russian Stimulation to help accomplish this task, or quadriceps strengthening exercises, like straight leg raises, instead. It’s necessary to exercise your hamstrings and hip muscles, which’ll involve some range of motion exercises.”

“After a knee injury, you may notice some difficulty in maintaining balance on your injured leg. It’s perfectly normal, and a BAPS board may be necessary to regain your body awareness. Also, I understand you’re a professional athlete, and if you’re planning on returning to high-level sports, then your physical therapy plan of care should include plyometric training, which I’m sure you’re familiar with.”

“Yes,” Harry nods. He’s used to those sort of exercises, where he exerts his muscles in short amounts of time, in order to increase his speed and strength. “I wanna go back to the ice.”

“Ice hockey?” He raises his brows, “Right, we’ll work on that.”

He doesn’t sound all too sure of himself, which Harry doesn’t fail to notice. He glances at Louis, but Louis’ got his eyes on the PT, listening carefully to his instructions. Harry should too, but now he’s concerned about whether or not he’ll actually recover well enough to be back on the rink. It’s not looking like he will, by the looks of it, and he wants to scream.

Harry’s barely present as the physical therapist assesses his motion, mind elsewhere as he prods and picks up his leg to get a better notion of where he’s at. Harry stares at the white ceiling and hisses every time he feels a painful twitch on his knee. 

“Okay, Mr. Styles,” He says. “I don’t want to overwork your knee since the tear is still pretty fresh but that was great.” It wasn’t. Harry barely did anything and what he did was either the bare minimum, or the PT doing everything for him. “We’ll have progressively more exercises to bring your strength back. I understand you were very athletic and from working out all day to being on bed rest takes a toll on your body, but I’ll help you get your strength back.”

Harry didn’t like that past tense. He still _is_ an athletic person, he just can’t currently show that, not in his current, depressing state. 

He keeps talking, saying something about what Harry should be expecting with this recovery process, but Harry’s only half listening, too bothered by thinking about his career, or lack thereof, to really listen. It’s a good thing Louis’ in the room. He’ll let him know what he missed, after.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” The physical therapist smiles. He looks proud of Harry, happy to be working with him, but Harry can’t match his smile. He was the first one to give him hope that he’ll actually be able to get back out in the rink, but even that was short lived. If he focuses on getting better, he knows he’ll be able to walk normally again, but his job heavily relies on his body and his strength, and that’s not something Harry has right now, nor something he’ll have for a while. 

“Wasn’t that great?” Louis asks, bordering on the thin line that separates condescending from optimistic. Harry often has to remind himself Louis’ not the bad guy here, and nothing he says has any ill feelings towards him. 

It’s just...it’s hard to be this optimistic sometimes. He’s nervous and excited, but also devastated and angry, and it’s like a switch to move from one thing to the other, which all and all, makes him sour and bitter for the most part. 

Louis’ eyes shine bright, his smile is genuine and the way his fringe settles on his forehead make Harry’s heart beat faster. 

He smiles too, “Yeah, it was.”

  
\-----

Harry has always been a very active person. Even as a kid, he couldn’t stop for a minute. He always had to be doing something and was lucky enough to travel around the world, in and out of his career hiking, jogging, exploring. He liked sitting down just as much as everyone else, but he also couldn’t handle sitting down for long.

Which is why being on bedrest is a fucking bitch and staring at the walls has quickly become way too boring. Louis’ been here a lot, if not most of the time and that helps. He’s been irritable and pissy, way too much to handle, and how Louis’ still here and holding his hand every day, Harry’s yet to figure out. 

He watches Louis when he sleeps, counts his eyelashes and wishes there weren’t any bags under his eyes. He also wishes Louis would just sleep on the bed with him, but he knows even Louis wouldn't like it because he moves around a lot and would be worried about hurting Harry. There's a part of Harry that wouldn’t even mind that, honestly. 

“Louis?”

“What?” He says, without even bothering to look up from his laptop.

“Can I borrow your phone?” He asks. 

Louis stops typing, hesitating, before he continues, “I don't’ know if that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, c'mon Lou,” Harry groans, “I'm bored and injured, can't you just do this for me?”

Louis sighs and stops typing altogether, “I don't even have games on my phone.”

That’s a lie and both of them know it. 

The closest thing Harry has to his phone is watching Louis play Candy Crush and Among Us on his phone. He wants to play as well, even if he doesn't even know how. He doesn't even have any games on his phone, but Louis’ games seem colourful and fun, and though Louis mumbles a lot of swear words to himself when he thinks Harry's asleep or too doped out to notice, for the sake of short lived entertainment, he’d like to give them a shot. 

“Yes you do,” Harry insists, “I could help you pass that candy crush level you’re on.”

Louis huffs, “You don’t even know how to play it.”

“It can’t be that hard,” Harry says, “Please? Just one level?”

“Ugh, fine,” Louis rolls his eyes, “But only pass me that level I’m stuck on, okay?”

Harry wasn't expecting it so easily, but he gladly accepts it. It’s been boring to watch reruns of the same episodes over and over again and he’s definitely in the mood for something else. 

Harry cheers when Louis passes his phone and goes to play. Louis looks over his shoulder, leaning on the bed to see what Harry is doing and Harry gloats how he managed to pass the level without much issue. 

“That’s not fair,” Louis pouts.

“Don't hate the player, hate the game,” Harry grins.

“I’m hating both right now,” Louis grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Harry laughs, and manages to bribe Louis into letting him play a couple more levels. Eventually, Louis sits back on the armchair and keeps working, knowing Harry’s entertained and addicted enough to keep playing for a while. 

Harry’s in the middle of doing a task on Among Us, when Louis gets up from his seat, under the pretense of going to the bathroom. Harry hums as he goes, too focused to watch him waddle away. It’s only when he’s all alone that he realizes he’s _actually_ alone with Louis’ phone. 

His stomach warms as he’s hit with a strong urge to google himself. He bites his bottom lip as he contemplates, glancing at the door in case Louis were to suddenly walk in. It’s definitely a risk, since Harry isn’t allowed to do so, and he doesn't know when Louis would be back. If Louis caught him, it definitely wouldn’t be pretty. 

He’s wasting time contemplating it all, and after he waits a couple of seconds to hear if anyone’s outside the door, impulsively, he leaves the game halfway through, opens safari and types out his name in the search bar. His heart beats loud and fast against his chest as he waits for it to load, and when it does, his heart falls to his feet.

He only gets to see the first few headlines, but it’s all too much before it overwhelms him and in a rush, he deletes the search history and goes back to the game as if nothing had happened. 

It’s impossible to focus now. He moves his green astronaut-type figure around with no real purpose and end goal. He doesn’t even remember what he was supposed to do, but none of that matters now that he’s seen how in fucking shambles his career is.

He’s in autopilot mode as Louis walks in, though Harry doesn’t even notice it until Louis’ standing beside him and noticing the change in Harry’s mood. 

“You alright Harry?” He asks, “Is your knee hurting again? You look a bit pale.”

“I’m fine,” He swallows, “Just...keep getting killed in this stupid game, s’all.”

Louis’ shoulder relaxes, “See, I told you it was hard. Now look who’s hating the game.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Harry breathes, unable to get a chuckle out. Louis doesn't notice.

\-----

Days go by painfully slow and Harry’s fucking close to reaching his limit.

In between the constant check ups on him and the physical therapy sessions, Harry's frustrations fluctuates around, but never ceases. They always tell him he’s on the right track, that he’s healing well and the exercises he’s been doing have been showing results, but Harry’s tired of showing results and still being locked inside this fucking hospital. 

He’s eating full meals by himself, he’s off the IV and he’s able to get up and take a piss without much help. He feels fine, the swelling is still there and the pain is still present, but it’s not as bad since all the ice packets and keeping his knee elevated helped him out. 

He just can’t stay here anymore, unless he wants to go batshit crazy. By the looks of it, he’s not too far off from reaching that point. 

“Can’t take it anymore Lou,” Harry whines, “Need to go back home, _fuck_ , don’t even care about the rink. Just can’t take these walls anymore.”

Louis eyes him sympathetically, holding his hand tightly, “We’ll talk to your doctor, okay? I’m sure we can figure something out”

Louis’ been a calm through Harry’s storm, the voice of reason through his breakdowns but he can only take so much before his frustrations hit a new level, and he’s so fucking uneasy all the fucking time. 

“Need to know now.” He grunts, “I’m fine, Lou. I need to go back home.”

“Harry-”

“Please, Lou,” Harry pleads. He’s lost all of his dignity already, so what’s begging compared to it all, “Just need to go home.”

Louis looks conflicted, torn between Harry’s medical needs and emotional needs. In between the begging and something must’ve worked, since Louis sighs and relents. 

“Okay, I’ll ask a nurse to bring Dr. Lee here.”

Harry’s shoulders sag in relief. He knows Louis’ got his best intentions, but having him on his side puts him at ease and momentarily makes him feel a lot better. Louis places a hand on his shoulder, rubbing sympathetically before grudgingly pulling away and turning to leave the room. 

He lets his head fall back against the pillow and stares straight ahead to the painfully white ceiling. He can’t take it anymore, it’s too white, too blaring, too _boring_. Harry’s never been this itchy to leave, to take a fucking walk. If he can’t leave soon, he doesn’t know what the hell he’s going to do with himself. 

He’s clutching the sheets tightly without realizing he’s doing it in the first place. His knuckles are blaringly white and he only notices as Dr. Lee walks in. Harry lets out a breath he doesn’t even know he’s holding in, and prays she’ll let him go home, the sooner the better.

“Hi, Harry,” Dr. Lee greets him, “How’re you feeling today?”

“Good,” Harry says, “Amazing, fantastic. Never been better.”

She raises a brow, “I can see that. I hear you’re ready to go home?”

“Yes,” Harry desperately nods, “I’m fine, my knee doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

That was a lie, and Dr. Lee saw right through him. 

“I’m not sure that’s completely true, Harry,” she says, nodding to the ice pack currently sitting on his knee. 

“Please let me go home.”

“How's this: we keep you for a couple more days and run some final check ups, and if everything is alright, you can go.'' Harry's eyes widen in surprise, “but even at home, you’ll be mostly on bedrest. A physical therapist will visit regularly and a nurse will come to check you out every once in a while.”

“That’s great, Dr. Lee,” Louis grins. 

The doctor smiles kindly. “I’ll just go get the paperwork, alright?”

Louis turns to Harry after she leaves, a foreign, hopeful look on his face.

“Good news, right?” Louis smiles.

And for once, Harry doesn’t stick to the pessimistic side of things. 

\-----

It feels like an eternity before Dr. Lee finally gives the green light for Harry to be discharged. 

All week, she’d been watching him carefully, keeping track of his progress pretty much daily, if not hourly, until she was confident Harry could go back home. The wait was boring, for the most part, but at least now he had something to look forward to. He put more effort in his physical therapy sessions and managed to walk around the room for a few seconds on his own before his knee began to strain, and he had to use a walker to help him out.

It felt like a lot more progress than lately, but still not enough. Regardless, Harry just needed to be back home, and he’s so relieved that his wish is finally coming true. 

“Are you excited?” Louis asks, smiling as he packs up Harry’s belongings in a gym bag.

“Yeah,” Harry grins, “Can't wait to piss in my own toilet.” 

“Harry!” Louis giggles, “You don’t have to be so crude!”

Harry smiles. He hasn't been this excited to go home in ages, and now he can barely hold himself back.   
  
They’re in the middle of talking about all the things Harry’s excited to do at home (that aren’t half as crude) when there’s a knock on the door. Without thinking too much of it, Harry lets them in and the smile washes off his face when he sees his mum walk in. 

Out of all people, his mum was the last person he expected to see today. He’s surprised she’s even here considering how awful Harry's been to her, by pushing her away when all she wanted was to be there for him.

“Hi, Harry,” She said, with a doleful smile, “I don't know if you want to see me...but Louis told me you were leaving today and I...I couldn't help but come by.”

Harry almost smacks himself for being such a prick. His mum was clearly hurting and he hates that he made her feel this way. 

“No, mum. That's okay,” Harry says, pulling her into a hug, “So good to see you.” Thankfully, she hugs him back tightly, and there’s something about this embrace that makes him feel so...guilty for being a fucking idiot. 

“I’m so sorry, mum,” Harry chokes out, hugging her tighter.

“It’s okay, Harry.” She mumbles, “Let’s get you home.”

Louis quietly finishes packing what needs to be packed up, and much to Harry’s reluctance, he ends up carrying his bags as Harry gets wheeled to the exit. 

Though Louis offers to help Harry inside Anne’s car, Harry would just fall over and bring Louis down with him, so he stands to the side and lets the nurses help him out of the wheelchair and into the car. 

Harry wishes he could drive himself back home. He’s always preferred to drive than to be driven around, but unfortunately for him, he was on strict doctor’s orders to stick to the passenger seat until he’s worked up more strength. At least he’s on his way home now, so that’s one thing he’ll sulk about later. 

Harry’s mum drives them back to his flat, quiet music playing in the background with occasional small talk. Harry takes the time to fully appreciate the view as they drive by. Considering that he drives a lot, and has been trapped inside a hospital for weeks now, he hasn’t had a lot of time to appreciate the outside world. He watches as the snow falls, causing the sky to turn into a beautiful mix of colours. 

Harry’s eyes then lower to the rearview mirror where Louis’ face from the back comes into view. He’s looking out as well, hand under his chin and smiling as he watches outside. 

The sky could’ve been pretty, but Louis was far more beautiful, and somehow that still felt like an understatement. 

They stop at home and Louis’ the first to offer some help, bringing Harry's walker before he fully opens the door and still holding his hand out as if it’d help much. Still, Harry doesn’t pass up the opportunity to hold his hand, even if it’d be fruitless in the grand scheme of it. As he gets himself up, he purposely puts more effort on his healthy leg, just so Louis wouldn't fall over or stumble with Harry’s weight.

“Do you wanna sit down on the couch or go to your room?” 

Taking on the stairs doesn’t look like a very appetizing idea, and though Harry’s happy to be back, he’s still pretty tired. Walking for too long takes a toll on him, and he’s been missing his couch a lot, anyways. 

“Couch, please.”

After helping Harry take a seat on his spot, Louis quickly gets him a pillow to keep his leg raised, and carefully lifts his leg up to place it under and make sure he’s comfortable in between. Meanwhile, Harry’s mum sits down next to him.

“I’ll bring you an ice pack, maybe some more cushions, _oh_ and a blanket.” Louis rambles, “Is there anything else you need?”

Harry smiles purely because Louis is just too cute, “I think I'm good, thanks Lou.”

Louis nods, “Mrs. Styles?”

“Call me Anne,” She dismisses, “but I'd love a tea.”

“Oh, me too,” Harry pipes up at the prospect of a nice cuppa tea from Louis. 

Louis smiles and goes on his way. Before the accident, sometimes when Harry asked Louis to get something for him, he’d whine and refuse, until eventually Harry got it himself, which was a lot more endearing than annoying if he’s honest, but it’s also cute to see Louis make him some tea and get him comfortable in his own house. There’s something very domestic about it all, and Harry's really enjoying himself. 

He might as well enjoy this luxury while he can.

When Louis’ out of the room, Anne sits closer to Harry. She’s got a devilish smile on her face that Harry can tell means she’s up to no good. 

“So? When are you two going to tell everyone you’re dating?”

If Harry had his tea, he’d definitely choke on it.

“What?” He stutters, “Mom, we’re not even a couple.”

“Yet,” She winks, “We’ve had this talk, Harry.”

Harry feels like he’s a teenager again, talking to his mum about his crush in middle school who wouldn’t even look his way. It doesn’t feel like anything's changed much since then. 

“Look mum, it’s not like I don't want to,” Harry admits, “Louis’ just…I don't know what he’s thinking. I don't know what he’s after, if he’s even after me. There’s still so much I don't know about him, y'know?”

“You can’t deny there’s something there, Harry." She says, "For what it’s worth, it doesn’t feel one sided at all and you should get to know him better. Let him in your life.”

Harry bites his bottom lip. Who does he think he’s fooling when he says there's nothing there? It’s obvious he’s head over heels for Louis. Louis’ given him mixed signals but Harry's just been through his worst and Louis’ been by his side more than he had to. Harry doesn't want to get too ahead of himself and call that love, but it seems pretty damn close.

“Promise me you’ll do something about it, love,” She says, “Don’t let him slip away.”

“I won’t.”

And it’s a promise Harry intends on keeping.

\-----

Anne doesn’t stay long, just long enough to catch up, mostly about her cat and any new gossip around her neighborhood, and to hang out. It feels good to talk to his mum again and Harry kind of kicks himself in the back for avoiding her and his sister for so long. Granted, he’s in a much better shape, but he’ll take his mum watching him walk around with a walker than watch him stuck in bed with hardly any mobility.

Louis stuck around as well, gushing with his mum about everything and anything. In the meantime, Harry let his thoughts drift to his talk with his mum he had earlier. The two were getting on really well, and if things ended up the way Harry hopes, them being close would probably end up biting him in the ass. But maybe, maybe that’s a risk Harry’s willing to take.

They’ve been pining for so long, and Harry needs to do something about it. He needs to really think this through, though. Louis’ been nothing but nice and attentive to him lately and the least Harry could do was give him what he deserved. He needs to start thinking of a plan to win him over, and it’s gotta be real fucking good. 

\-----

Being back home is equally as great as it is underwhelming. On one hand, it’s nice to be surrounded by what he knows, being in a place his brain equates to comfort and relaxation at the end of the day, but on the other, it’s just as boring to be on bedrest at home than at the hospital. 

At least there’s more to entertain himself with. He’s got his laptop, video games, books he’s been telling himself he’ll get to for a few years now, embarrassingly enough. He’s got his phone back as well, but just as with his laptop, Harry’s learnt his lesson and avoids anything ice hockey related, even if it’s probably the only thing he’d like to google. He hasn’t even checked his texts or emails, much less any social media, since it's all very hockey centred anyways.

He’s trying not to overwhelm himself as much, and he’s taking baby steps. One day at a time, sort of thing. 

Speaking of baby steps, Harry’s kept his side of the bargain and has been doing the exercises his physical therapist leaves him with, to help him build his strength back up on his knee. He does alright, and though he still stumbles a lot when he walks, he’s doing a lot better than the first few sessions. 

With that being said, though, Louis’ been constantly fussing him over the smallest things. He doesn’t let Harry out of bed, unless he absolutely needs to and when he’s up doing his exercises. He fluffs out Harry’s pillow under his leg every hour to keep his leg elevated. He also warily watches Harry every time he takes a step, be it with or without his walker. 

It’s fine, most of the time, but sometimes Harry feels like he’s constantly under watch and it’s like he hadn’t left the hospital in the first place. He really appreciates Louis’ concern, but when he’s having an off day, he can’t help but feel like he’s made of glass. 

Harry wakes up early today, right in the middle of his too big, too empty bed. His body feels heavy and there’s a low thrum of pain coming from his knee when he moves. A sigh leaves his mouth before he can count for it. It seems like it’ll be a long day. 

Despite not having practiced in a few months already, Harry still wakes up just as early as if he had to be down at the gym in the next hour. It’s bittersweet to have to either go back to sleep or stare at the ceiling until it’s socially acceptable enough to wake up, when all he wanted to do was go work out. 

He’s been sleeping a lot lately and making up for any fitful nights, so it’s not much of a surprise when Harry can’t get himself back to sleep. Instead, he grabs his phone to check up on anything he missed as he slept, which ends up being a couple of texts, and then catches up on some Netflix show Louis got him addicted to. 

Harry’s on his third episode when he hears a knock on the door, a familiar pattern that leaves a smile on Harry's face before he can even open the door. 

Louis walks in with a smile on his face and a tray filled up with food, most likely for both of them since they’ve been eating breakfast together every morning since Harry’s stay at the hospital. Louis’ smile alone was enough to put Harry in a better mood. 

“Good morning, Harry, how’re you feeling today?” Louis asks as he sets the tray down on Harry’s bedside table. Meanwhile, Harry uses his arms to push him up, so he’s sitting on his mattress with his back against the headboard. 

“M’alright,” He says, “Kind of hungry, a bit bored.”

Louis sits close to him on the bed. Harry’s not sure if it's intentional or not but it feels nice. His bed is so big and empty and he won't lie and say he hasn't thought about Louis in bed with him. 

Calm down, Harry. Popping a stiffy wouldn’t be his greatest ideas ever right now. 

“Good thing I brought you some food, then,” Louis smiles. Harry’s really grateful for him. Getting up and down the stairs isn’t exactly his favorite thing in the world now that he’s gone and fucked up his knee. 

As they eat together, breakfast is filled with light conversation and Louis stealing Harry’s fruit when he thinks he’s not looking. Louis’ not the most subtle thief, but he gives him a pass just for trying. 

“You know,” Louis says after wiping his mouth with a napkin, “Your hair’s been growing out a lot lately,” Louis says as he fiddles with the loose strands hanging in front of Harry’s face.

It’s true. A haircut hasn’t really been Harry's priority lately, so it’s looking longer than how he’d usually keep his hair. He’d been meaning to get it cut sometime during the season, since having long hair doesn't really work well with ice hockey, but obviously his plans got cut short and that didn’t happen. 

“Is it that bad?” Harry asks, half smiling.

“No,” Louis hums, still twirling his finger and looking like he’s up to no good, “I just think a new haircut could be good.”

Harry raises a brow, “Should I even be trusting you with scissors?”

Louis rolls his eyes, “Trust me, I know how to give decent haircuts. I cut my own hair.” He says, “Besides, I think you’d look good with a mullet.”

Harry snorts, “A mullet?” 

“Yeah!” Louis grins, “I really think you’d look really good.”

Embarrassingly enough, Harry doesn’t need more convincing. He trusts Louis enough to make him look decent with a mullet, and even if it’d look awful, he’d still act like it was the best haircut in his entire life. 

“Okay, fine,” Harry agrees, sitting up straighter in bed, “I think I’ve got some scissors in the bathroom. Could you go check?”

“We’re not cutting your hair in bed,” Louis says, already standing up, “We need to move to the bathroom. It’s easier to clean up.”

“Bring me my walker?”

That’s about as much as Harry asks of him. He’s pretty stubborn on getting himself up, and he likes to think he’s capable of doing more than what he actually can. Regardless, Louis’ always there to assist him no matter how much Harry grumbles about it. 

Harry walks ahead of Louis into the ensuite, cautious as he tries to put all his weight on his good leg and his arms. Louis lingers behind him, ready to help him if he needs to, until he’s safely sat down on the toilet lid.

Louis goes to find some decent scissors and a towel while Harry appreciates the last few minutes of his intact hair while he can. He doesn't know what he’s expecting, but he feels like he’s in good hands with Louis. If not, he can always slap a beanie on until his hair grows out enough that no one would notice he cut it into a mullet in the first place. 

“Found it!” Louis smiles, closing the drawer with his hip, “You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be”

They make eye contact through the mirror every once in a while as Harry’s hair floats down into his lap in clumps. Harry begins to get worried since so much hair falls down and covers the towel on the floor, he fears Louis might have given him a buzz cut. Now, that would’ve been unforgivable. 

After lots of giggles and time of Louis invading his space with a deadly weapon, Louis finally steps back to asses his work of art.

“I think I’m finished here,” Louis proudly grins, “Take a look!”

Harry turns on his seat, not really sure what exactly to expect, only to find a pleasant surprise.

“Oh wow,” His eyes widen as he stands up, leaning against the counter to get a closer look, turning his head to the sides to check out his angles. “I don't know why I didn't do this any sooner.”

Louis grins, “At least you have one now, and I think I did a pretty good job.”

Harry leans back, careful not to put all his weight on his knee.

“True, true, but I think you look better with a mullet than I do,” Harry smiles as Louis blushes.

“Can’t help it,” Louis shrugs, “Can I?”

“No,” Harry bites his bottom lip to hold back a grin as Louis brings a hand up to play with Harry's mullet. “Louis…”

“Hm?” He looks up, soft and pretty and letting his eyes flit from Harry’s lips up to his eyes again.

In a spur of the moment, Harry slowly leans forward. Louis silently raises his chin with his lips parted, and Harry can barely feel their noses touching before abruptly, Louis pulls back.

“I have to clean this mess up now, so you might have to go back to bed,” Louis says as he walks away, “Can’t leave the bathroom looking like this, and you’d just distract me anyways.”

It’s probably the third time this has happened and by now, it’s hard not to feel defeated. Harry’s shoulders slump as Louis babbles on his way to find a broom, and he can’t help but wonder if maybe this wasn’t a good idea in the first place. 

Without arguing back, Harry stands with his walker and brushes off any loose piece of hair still on his t-shirt. His hair looks good and flatters him a lot more than he’d expected, but he can’t get himself to feel overly excited about his new hairstyle when he got flat out rejected for the nth time.

With a final glance, he hobbles back to bed with his walker and when Louis walks back inside his room, broom and dustpan in hand, he barely glances Harry’s way. 

\-----

There’s always something about Sundays that makes Harry feel lazier than in the rest of the week. It’s a slow day with gentle rain pattering against the windows and it’s just the right vibe to sit around and do nothing.

Harry and Louis sit together on the couch while a movie plays out in front of them. Louis’ working on his laptop with his legs stretched out and feet dangerously close to him, and Harry kinda just wants to rest his hand on Louis’ legs. Harry can't help himself, thinking about how domestic it all is, even if it’s a bit of a weird thought, considering his track record of getting shot down. 

He runs a hand through his hair and every time, he forgets some parts are shorter than he recalled since he’s got a mullet now. Which ends up reminding him of that morning with Louis, and inevitably, the closest thing he had to kissing him.

He isn't sure how Louis feels about it, since neither of them ever really bring it up and just ignore it ever happened entirely, but Harry’s noticed how he gets slightly awkward around him now, nervous and fidgety, and Harry knows he’s definitely got something to do with it.

The movie stops playing because of an ad break, and Harry decides he could go for something to drink. He’s all out of tea, so he gets up from the couch, using mostly his arms and good leg to help him as he stands up. 

“What’re you doing?” Louis’s voice stops him.

“Getting something to drink,” He says, “Do you-”

Louis suddenly closes his laptop, “Are you kidding me? You’re not even using your walker, Harry. You’re going to hurt yourself like that.”

“It’s fine, Lou,” Harry shrugs off, “I'm just getting some water.”

“I can get that for you,” Louis stands up high, but still a head shorter than him, “That's what I’m here for.”

Louis’ always been one to fuss over Harry, but Harry hasn't even been doing that much to vouch for this sort of reaction. He barely stood up as it is.

“Just sit back down again,” Louis orders, “I’ll get you something to drink.”

“The counter’s right over there,” Harry points out. “You know I'm not completely unable to get things done around here.”

“I know,” Louis says, already heading to the counter, “Harry, you're overworking yourself. I know you need to move around a bit but no, you can't do things like this. Not yet. You've already done your exercise and walked more than you need to.” 

Harry hates hearing that; it stings a little and makes him feel a little less like himself again. 

Louis hands him his drink and Harry reluctantly accepts. 

“One day at a time, Harry.” 

Harry takes a long sip and lets his head fall back against the couch.

\----

Sometimes, Harry has bad days. 

He’s got days where even the thought of leaving his bed is a struggle itself, and others where he can’t go another minute laying down without freaking out. He gets irritable and quickly frustrated with his own situation, of being unable to fucking walk without feeling an uncomfortable twinge on his knee, or scared he’ll just get injured all over again and potentially worsen his case. 

In those days, it’s almost like Harry makes it his own personal mission to get on everyone's nerves all day.

That’s how Harry woke up today. He was grouchy in the morning, refusing to get out of bed and hating every second his knee throbbed. He hardly ate any meals Louis brought him and complained the entire time Louis helped him up to use the restroom. 

It went on like this all day, and it continued during _and_ after Harry’s physical therapy sessions.

His exercises were becoming harder and harder with each session, and he wasn’t in a good mood today to start off, and it shows with how much he struggled. It felt like if all the progress he had made went down the drain and he was back to square one.

He’s back in bed, under the covers with a random documentary playing on his laptop. Harry’s not too invested in it, but it’s a distraction, and that’s good enough for him. 

There’s a knock on his door that doesn’t wait for him to open up, revealing Louis holding up a small tray of tea and what looked like cookies. 

“Can I come in?” He asks at the door. Louis was already inside anyways, so as much as Harry wanted to be alone right now, he nods. 

Louis walks in and sets the tray on the bedside table, as always, but this time there’s only one cup of tea and not enough cookies for both of them to share. 

“How are you feeling,” Louis tentatively asks. 

“Fucking peachy.” Harry grunts as he reaches for his snack. 

He suddenly regrets his tone and choice of words when Louis flinches beside him. 

“Harry…”

“Sorry,” he shakes his head, “Can’t help it today. I’m in a shit mood.”

It’s nothing Louis wasn’t aware of already. 

“Do you need anything?” He sympathetically asks.

_A new fucking knee that works well, thanks._

“Think I just need some time alone,” Harry answers instead. 

“Oh,” Louis hesitates, “Uh, well. Okay.”

“What?” Harry frowns.

“Nothing,” Louis squeaks, which obviously meant there was something. “S’just...Niall texted me. Says he wanted to see you.”

Harry’s shoulders tense up, “Well, I don’t want to see him, or anyone else for that matter.”

“Harry,” Louis softly says, “It’s just Niall, he just wants to-”

“No.” Harry cuts him off “I don't want to see _anyone_.”

Louis’ face falls, disheartened by what Harry’s telling him. “Harry, you can't keep pushing your friends away.”

Immediately, Harry scoffs. 

“You don't understand me, Louis,” He says, “I’m fucking ruined. I’ve got nothing. I’ll never fucking play again ever in my life. Do you know how fucking hard that is for me to deal with?”

“Harry, that’s not true, there’s still-”

“What? A chance that I can play again? A small, incredibly slim chance that I can actually get back on ice without it being a huge risk? It won’t happen, Louis. Doesn’t fucking matter what the doctors say.”

“You can’t say that,” Louis says, still keeping his patience, “You’re doing so well with your sessions, you’re gonna-”

“No, I won’t,” Harry says, exasperated, “And I can’t have anyone look at me when I’m like...like _this_.”

“You’re fine, Harry, and you will get better,” Louis says, as if he fucking knows what Harry’s going through.

“You can’t promise me that.” He scoffs.

Louis’ lips tighten, “No, I can't. But I know that surrounding yourself with people you rely on and who love you is a good thing, and will help you in the long run.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “Why do you act like you know what's best for me, huh? You don't know what this is like, Louis. It’s fucking awful.” 

Louis pales, “Yes I do.”

“No you don't,” Harry insists, “My whole life just went to a shithole and you think it’s so easy to suddenly have my friends and family see me like this. Physical therapy is hopeless, I feel hopeless and you can't…” He swallows, “You can't pretend like you do.”

“I don't have to pretend,” He strains, “I know it more than you think you do.”

“No, Lou.”

“Stop!” He suddenly yells, “Who are you to tell me what I know and don't know?” Louis loses his calm in an outburst that surprises Harry, “You think I don't know what it’s like to suddenly lose everything you know? To watch someone's hopes and dreams suddenly be taken from their hands? How dare you make that assumption, Harry. You don't know anything about me.”

“Louis-”

There’s tears threatening to leave Louis’ eyes.

“Do you know how hard it was for me to watch my sister after her _fucking_ accident? Do you know how difficult it was to watch someone you love completely change right in front of you? Become a shell of themselves and fall into a horrible depression. I almost lost her, Harry. Do you know how hard that is?”

"She was so young, Harry. _Too fucking young_ , and all her dreams got taken away just because of one stupid car accident. All she wanted to do was dance ballet, but now she can barely do a spin without feeling an immense amount of pain I can't save her from. She's meant to be on stage, dancing with her friends. Not relying on her older brother for everything while being stuck to bed." Louis chokes, "My mum had to- had to fucking work two jobs to cover her medical bills and I couldn't bear watching her overwork herself. I jumped between jobs to pitch in, but none of them did much to help except this one, but it's so fucking hard to leave them behind and to watch it happen all over again."

Harry’s speechless.

“So don't tell me I don't know what you're going through, because I do. I know it’s difficult that this is happening to you. I know, I get Harry, I do, and you have a right to be upset, but don't you dare act like you know what I‘ve lived through. Maybe I _do_ know what's best for you, because I've _experienced_ it.”

Harry feels awful, absolutely awful. Embarrassed for himself, and feels so bad he just assumed shit about Louis. 

“Lou, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“I'm sorry,” Louis cries, “I can't do this.” Louis gets up and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Watching him run out of the door and shut it behind him was incredibly devastating. Never in his life had Harry wanted to bring out this sort of reaction, just because he was having a bad day. Louis was just trying to help him out, and in turn Harry was nothing but rude and selfish. He feels horrible about lashing out and he just wants to run to him and apologize, but Louis needs his space right now, and Harry doesn’t want to disrespect him anymore than he has already.

He feels like the worst person in the world right now, and he definitely deserves to feel this way. 

Just because he woke up in a shitty mood, didn’t mean he had to project his frustrations onto anyone, especially Louis, who’d done more than he needed to to help with his recovery. Louis really went above and beyond with him, without ever once complaining and it all made so much sense now. Why he was so guarded, so reserved and hardly spoke about his family. He didn’t owe him any explanations, Harry knows that much, but he feels like a dickhead now for basically forcing him to reveal something so personal to him in a stupid fight. 

He’s screwed up many times along his life, but never this bad, and never to someone he cared for as much as Louis. He’ll have to make it right, he needs to make it right for him. He’s got a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach, but it’s nothing compared to how Louis must be feeling. 

He needs to change his attitude, and he needs to change it now. Starting from what he knows best. 

He hasn’t faced his team ever since the accident, but he knows he’s got texts, missed calls and even emails piled up and waiting for him. He’d been avoiding them since acknowledging his team's concern about him and his well being only made everything so much more real, and there’s still a part of Harry who’s living in denial, so even going through those texts would just make Harry feel a whole lot worse about himself. 

When he goes to sleep at night and falls into his dream, he’s able to do everything. He’s able to skate, fly, run as much as he can and waking up in bedrest is absolute torture for him. He can’t live like that anymore. He can’t pretend that everything is okay and that one day, he’ll magically wake up to a healed knee and be back on the rink as if nothing had even happened. 

It’s just not realistic. 

Grabbing his phone from the bedside table, he scrolls through his contacts until he reaches the one person he knows could help him right now. He puts his phone against his ear and doesn’t have to wait long until his call gets picked up.

“Hello?”

“Richard, hi,” Harry says, “I need you to find me a therapist and book an appointment as soon as possible.”

\------

Harry can count in one hand the amount of times he’s been to therapy. 

It’s never been something he necessarily felt compelled to do, despite knowing its importance to people's wellbeing. He just never really felt like he needed it, until now. He doesn’t know why he didn’t consider it sooner, but it was probably mostly due to the fact how he himself couldn’t accept his own problems and recognize that in his case, maybe speaking to the right therapist could help him in the long run. 

Richard must’ve pulled some strings, because not even half an hour after his call, he managed to get him a session booked for the afternoon. The appointment was even online, so he didn’t even have to leave the comfort of his bed. 

It was a bit daunting at first, to be completely open and vulnerable to someone he hadn’t ever spoken to before, but after the first ten minutes of an easy going conversation, Harry became less nervous and more willing to face himself and accept he went through something incredibly difficult and traumatic.

Ignoring his whole situation and hiding away from people who cared for him all came down to his own fear of losing a sense of his own identity. Ice Hockey had always been a major part of his life, and with not being able to participate for an indeterminable amount of time, this sort of behavior was expectant, if anything. When you lose all you know, you lose yourself a little on the way, and in Harry’s case, he needs to put his mind over matter. 

He doesn’t know how long the session lasted for, but by the time it’s over, Harry feels like he’s gone through a series of epiphanies. 

The first big one, was that he majorly screwed up with Louis. He was entitled to his own struggle and complaints, but to discredit someone's own pain and to belittle them is completely uncalled for and plain ignorant and rude. Harry still feels awful about it, and he probably will for a while, but he can’t blame Louis for his outburst and any negative feelings he has towards him now. He couldn’t even blame him if he wanted to quit and leave as soon as possible. 

Harry also realized that it wasn’t completely fair of him to push away people who care about him, for all this time. He couldn’t help it, at the time, and he still doesn’t think he can face all of his friends, all of the acquaintances who reached out for him, or any fan who’s waiting for him to get back on the ice, but can’t avoid his problems for the rest of his life, so today, he deals with it. Little by little. 

He texts Niall to come over tomorrow, calls Liam and Yanis to update them on his recovery and reaches out to his teammates, most of them at least, to apologize for his radio silence and thank them for all their support even if Harry wasn’t reciprocating it. 

It felt good to get this weight off his shoulders and realize he didn’t have to go through all of this alone. There was still hope for him, after all and he definitely had a great support group to have his back whenever he felt pessimistic. 

Harry was so lost in his mission of taking care of one problem at a time, he didn’t consider the possibility of seeing Louis for the rest of the day. Not after the way he left Harry’s room, crying because of him and his lack of brain to mouth filter. 

Which is why Harry’s so surprised to see him at the door, a tray of food in hand and an empty expression on his face. 

Louis doesn’t say a word as he walks inside and places Harry’s dinner and his pain meds on his bedside table. Both of them are silent and Harry feels like they’re back to square one. Negative a thousand squares behind, actually, because even when they first met, the tension wasn’t this bad.

Harry can’t take this silence anymore, though. Not when he wants to fix what he damaged so badly. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, which isn’t much, but there’s no other thing Harry could say that would sound even remotely genuine or okay without apologizing first, “I’m so sorry for being an idiot, Louis. It was never my intention to be so insensitive. I’ve got no excuse whatsoever and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I need you to know how sorry I am.”

Louis doesn’t answer. He just looks at Harry with an unreadable expression, and it’s not like Harry was expecting any instant forgiveness, and though he’s not deserving of it either, he’d only wish Louis would say something back. 

Instead, he sighs and picks up Harry’s tray of half eaten biscuits biscuits and tea that had gotten freezing cold by now. 

“Goodnight Harry,” he says, and it hurts to hear the downhearted tone lacing his voice as he turns around to leave. 

Harry's set on making this right again, even if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do in his life. 

\---

The following day goes by just as Harry expected it to. Interactions with Louis were short, cold and kept to a distant professional manner, that hardly compared to how Louis was at the start. 

In today’s physical therapy session, Harry put in a lot more effort than lately and went the extra mile to be careful and calculated and fully trusting on his therapist. He did such a good job that even his therapist was extremely proud of his progress and mentioned how if this motivation kept up, Harry’d be back on ice sooner than he thought.

It was all incredible news, and news he wishes he could be excited about with Louis, but he didn’t come to Harry’s room after his session and after twenty minutes going by, Harry was certain he wouldn’t see Louis for the rest of the day. 

He was okay with that. He respected Louis’ need for space and some time for himself and Harry didn’t want to intrude. He’d wait an eternity if that’s what it took for them to finally be on better terms, even if it’s not looking like they’ll get any better soon. He’s an idiot, a big, dumb idiot. 

The door suddenly opens and Harry almost drops his phone on his face when Louis’ by the door, holding it open and barely peeking out of it. 

“Lou-”

“Niall’s here,” He says, tight lipped and neutral, “Just wanted to let you know.”

“O-Okay.” Harry falters. “Loui-”

“Let me-”

Harry clears his throat, “Sorry. You go first.”

Instead, Louis shakes his head. “We’ll talk soon.”

The conversation ends there and Harry doesn't say anything as he hears footsteps nearing, only for Niall to appear behind the door. He’s really happy to see him again after all this time, but the careful look on his face just serves as a reminder of how awful Harry’s been to him, and to many others during his recovery. He’d take it all back if he could. 

“Let me know if you need anything,” Louis mumbles before taking a step back and leaving the two of them alone. Harry’s eyes follow him out as Niall walks in and he has to fight any inner urge he gets to run out and apologize as many times as he needs to. Things don’t work out quite like that, though, and he can only dream about a time where he never even opened up his mouth in the first place. 

“Hey, Harry,” Niall tentatively smiles as he sits on the edge of his bed, “How’re you holding up, dude?”

“I’ve been better,” Harry admits, not missing the smallest wince from Niall, “But, I...I’m recovering well, Ni. They say I might be able to get back on ice.”

“That’s amazing, Harry,” Niall grins, and he looks so happy for him, for his best mate since they were kids, that Harry feels so fucking guilty for not letting him be there for him during his worst months of his life.

“Yeah,” Harry chokes, “Niall, _fuck_ , dude. I’m so sorry, man. I’m so fucking sorry for pushing you away. You didn’t deserve that.”

“S’okay, Harry,” He pulls him in for a hug, “Don’t worry about it now. You’ve been through a lot and no matter what, we’re gonna be here for you.”

Harry smiles, “Thanks, Ni.”

They pull away from their hug and already Harry’s feeling a lot better. There’s still some guilt floating through, but he’s so glad Niall’s understanding and more than patient, or else Harry wouldn’t know if he’d really stuck around.

“So, what did I miss? Other than your _incredible_ new hairstyle.”

Harry snorts, and runs a hand through his freshly cut mullet.

The conversation is easier than Harry expects. Niall was never one to hold a grudge and it’s a relief to see how he stuck to old habits and is having a normal conversation with Harry, even if he got pushed away for so long. 

Somehow, all the talk about how Niall’s life is going turns into Harry’s own life, specifically his life with Louis. Harry didn’t want to talk much about it, but he figured he owed Niall that much to admit how he managed to mess things up with Louis, to the point where they can’t even talk like they used to. He spares no details, other than unintentionally hurting his feelings, but Niall gets the jist of it, and also understands how disappointed Harry is about himself and how much he wants to make up for being a proper dick. 

“So, you like him?” Niall asks, despite already knowing the answer. 

“I think I do.” Harry starts, except Niall doesn’t seem so convinced, “Yeah, I do like him. A lot, actually. Probably more than I’ve liked anyone.”

“I know he likes you too Harry,” Niall says, “He just needs some time, both of you do.”

Harry wants to believe Niall’s right, and for the sake of spending quality time together, he does. He’d like to think his feelings are reciprocated, but now it’s hard to think they are.

Sensing the shift in the mood, Niall quickly changes the subject again and they spend the rest of the day catching up and playing video games in Harry’s room. They’re quick to lose track of time with round after round, and eventually it’s getting late and Niall has to leave.

After he’s gone, with the promise of being back more often, Harry realizes how lonely it is without someone else in the room with him. It’s not even a huge room or anything, it’s just missing someone, and the worst part is Harry knows exactly who he’s missing here and there’s only one wall keeping them apart. 

Playing FIFA by himself quickly gets boring and Harry turns off the game in favour of watching regular TV. Before he knows it, Louis quietly brings his dinner up and leaves without a word. It’s starting to become a routine for them, and Harry can’t say he’s a fan of it. 

When he’s finished, Louis’ at the door again, and once again, Harry apologizes, only to be met with a pained silence. It doesn’t hurt any less, even if he was already expecting it. He sighs to himself as he watches Louis leave, leaning back again against his pillows and letting his eyes drift back to the TV.

He thinks it’s going to be another night like this, all alone and watching TV until he eventually falls asleep, but the door to his room opens again, and Harry’s eyebrows shoot up when Louis awkwardly stands by the door. 

“Um, Harry,” he mumbles, “Actually...can we talk?”

“Yeah,” Harry sits up straighter in bed, “Yeah, let’s talk.”

As Louis bashfully walks inside the room, Harry’s feel a nervous flare in his stomach. He’s had plenty of _‘we need to talk_ ’ conversations in his life, but he’s never been this nervous about one before. He doesn’t know what to expect out of it, and that’s what worries him the most. 

Louis takes a seat on his bed, on the furthest end and nervously picks on his nails as he stammers to find the words he needs. 

“Louis,” Harry starts, “I’m so sorry-”

“Let me-” Louis breathes, and Harry shuts right up. “Harry, I’m going to level with you here. I know you were frustrated and having a bad day, and I don’t blame you for having your own feelings and needing to express them. You’ve been through a life-changing accident, so I understand when you have days worse than others. You’re allowed to feel what you feel, but the problem here, Harry…” He sighs, “It doesn’t give you an excuse to push me like that.

“You...you can’t just assume things like that, about me. You can’t act like you know what someone’s been through, when you don’t even know half of it, Harry. You...discredited my pain and even if it didn’t come from a place to hurt me, it still did.”

This conversation isn’t being any pleasant for Harry, but he deserves this. He screwed up, badly. 

“I’m a really patient person, Harry, but I do have my limit.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Harry confesses, “I was a huge idiot, too caught up in my own head and I’ll own up to my mistake. It was incredibly wrong of me to assume things like that. You’re right, there’s still a lot about you that I don't know and it’s not right for me to force up something so personal to you like that.”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes, “You have no idea what it was like…”

“And you don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with,” Harry says, “I’m really sorry for how I acted, Louis. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or even...keep being my... assistant. I don’t...don’t want to put you in an uneasy spot.”

A beat of silence falls between them. 

“I’ve also, uh, been going to therapy, actually,” Louis frowns, “Like, _therapy_ therapy. It’s been really helping me out with my, uh, issues, because of the accident. I kind of wish I’d gone sooner, honestly.” 

Given Louis’ face, Harry can tell he wasn’t expecting it. It’s the closest thing to emotion he’s seen from Louis lately. 

“Okay,” He nods, “I, uh. I think I still need some time to...soak this all in, but I’m glad you’re taking the time to work on yourself and make progress.” Louis says, “Your PT told me you’re doing well and that’s...that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, Harry.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner,” Harry solemnly replies.

Louis shakes his head, “What matters is you’ve learnt what it is you need to do, and now you need to apply those tools into your real life. It’s not going to be easy, but that’s why you need to rely on your friends, family...me.”

Harry almost wants to cry. 

“You’ve done so much for me, Louis,” Harry says, “I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate you. All this time, I’ve been a dick and you’ve just...you haven’t complained once.”

“You have your reasons, Harry,” Louis adds, “You have your pain and I’m not going to discredit it. I just wanted to help you, and I can’t help you if I’m holding a grudge over you, so I forgive you.”

Harry’s eyes widen, “You do? But-”

Louis stands up, “I still need some time for myself,” He continues, “And I’m still really hurt, but I see that you realize now that you were wrong and are trying to fix it, so I’m willing to put this past us. That’s...that’s all. Good night, Harry.”

“Wait!” Harry stops him mid-step, “If there’s anything I can do for you...for your family, please let me know. If you ever want to go back home, just tell me and I’ll get you your tickets. Or if you want to bring your family over, it’s fine, just tell me and i’ll make it happen. Anything you want, Louis.”

For once, the corners of Louis’ lips turn in the smallest hints of a smile, “Thank you Harry. I really appreciate that. I’ll be in my room, now. Let me know if you need help with anything.”  
They let their eyes linger on each other for a second before Louis turns and heads to his room. 

Harry’s heart thumps heavily against his chest. In a way, he can’t even believe Louis even gave him the time of his day to talk about what had happened and even get to the point of forgiving him. He knows he still has a lot to prove.

There’s still a long road ahead of Harry, but he’s ready to take it on.

\-------

Ever since that conversation with Louis, it’s like Harry’s whole point of view shifted into a better place. 

He’s been extra cooperative during his physical therapy sessions, and he’s even noticed a lot of improvements himself. Walking up the stairs has been less of a challenge each day and Harry finds himself struggling less and less to even stand on his own. It’s still really hard to go through, and he still has days where he feels less motivated and hopeless, but he’s also becoming better at his own regular therapy appointments and relying on other people to help him through a rough patch.

Therapy’s been helping him a lot, and visits from his friends and family have become more frequent and less anxiety inducing. It doesn’t sting as much to hear about how his team is doing - thankfully still staying at the top ranks - but he hasn’t been obsessively keeping up with it like he used to. It’s a one day at a time thing for him. 

Which speaking of, it’s been the same with Louis. 

With each day that goes by, they slowly make their way back to how they used to be. They haven’t reached that point yet, and Harry doesn’t want to push anything, so he’ll take what he can get, which is more than what he feels like he deserves. 

Louis usually stays with him for meals, and now that Harry’s been able to get up and down the stairs with more ease, they usually eat together on Harry’s island, and usually spend the afternoon together on his couch, either just hanging out or doing his physical therapy exercises together. 

However, even with Louis being more present with him, and actually allowing himself to laugh with him and generally speaking, having fun together, it’s clear there’s still some tension between them. And Harry gets it, he does. He was a massive dick towards him and he doesn’t blame Louis for any reluctance on his part. 

But things have been good, better than a few weeks ago and, for once, Harry feels like he’s on the right track, with himself, with others, with Louis. 

It’s raining outside, a dark gloomy day that contrasted heavily with yesterday's bright sunshine. Harry and Louis are alone in his house, sitting on either side of the couch and watching a romcom on Harry’s flat inch TV. The fireplace is lit as well, serving as ambiance and cozying up the house. 

Louis was meant to be working on his laptop, but it’s since been pushed aside and replaced with a tea on his lap. He barely takes his eyes off the movie as he drinks his tea, and Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen something that cute in his life. 

He ends up being wrong, since Louis moves to tuck his legs up and have his bright red fuzzy socks up and barely grazing Harry’s leg. His hands wrap around the winnie the pooh mug he’d brought from his own flat, bringing it up to his lips and taking a careful sip, half due to how scalding hot it was, half too focused on the movie playing to look away. 

It’s settled. That’s the cutest thing Harry’s ever seen in his life. 

It should be embarrassing that Harry ends up focusing more on the smaller man sitting beside him, looking all cute and cozy, rather than the movie, but it isn’t. It feels...right. 

In his downtime, Harry has a lot of time to think things over and process his emotions, and after all this time, his feelings for Louis didn’t lessen, not even a little bit, and if there’s one thing he’d learnt out of his unfortunate accident, is that it only takes a second for your life to change drastically, and he can’t waste his time leaving anything for later. If he wants something, he’ll need to act now and he knows just what to do.

The movie’s still playing as he stands up, not that he’s even remotely paying attention to it, and he manages all by himself with hardly any struggle. He leant most of his weight on his good leg and used his arms to push himself up. 

Louis barely misses it, but Harry should know by now that even with distractions, Louis’ always got an eye on him.

“Where’re you going?” He asks, “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“Need to take a piss,” Harry fibbs, but it works since the guest bathroom is close enough and, by now, with small trips like these, Louis doesn’t fuss over as much as he used to. 

“Yell out if you need me,” He says as he grabs a blanket and pulls it over his body. Harry shouldn’t be smiling this much over it, but he can’t help it when Louis’ too endearing.

“Will do.”

Harry hobbles over to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him before putting the toilet seat down and taking his phone out of his pocket. 

He knows he’s taking a risk with this one, and he knows there’s a big chance of this backfiring completely in his face, but he can’t let this chance slip from between his fingers. It’s about time Harry repaid for everything Louis’ done for him and despite him being stuck in a grey area of ‘S _hould I? Shouldn’t I?_ ’, this is definitely overdue by now and Harry can’t handle the spiral of _‘what ifs_ ’ anymore. 

  
His thumb stops when it reaches Niall’s name, and his heart thumps wildly against his chest as he puts his phone against his ear. Luckily, it only takes two rings before Niall picks, and an excited grin makes its way onto Harry’s face. 

“Niall? I need a favour.”

\-------

With Louis now unofficially living in Harry’s house, for the sake of medical purposes, it’s very hard to convince him to leave the house for long enough, so that Niall could sneak in without him finding out about it.

Thankfully, groceries were running low and since Harry still hadn’t received a green light to get back behind the wheel of his car, much less out and about, Louis was in charge of picking them up. Harry was a big guy, tall and made out of mostly muscle, so he usually needed a whole lot of food to back it up, and if he slightly exaggerated his groceries list, that’s only for him to know. 

“Are you sure you need this much steak?” Louis raises a brow.

“Yeah, why not?” Harry plays it off. “Gotta get my proteins, right?”

Louis’ none the wiser and shrugs it off, figuring it’s better to let it go and leave Harry to deal with how filled up the freezer’s going to be. 

Niall’s already on his way when Louis heads out, and Harry’s nervously bouncing his good leg as he sits on the couch waiting for his best mate. The TV’s on, but he can hardly focus on it when he’s got a plan to set up, a lot on his plate to lose. 

The doorbell rings and Harry almost trips on his own feet as he answers the door, being way too excited to even think about grabbing his walker.

“Hey, Harry,” Niall smiles, raising two hefty bags on either hands, “I got all you needed, right here.”

“Thanks, mate,” Harry grins, stepping aside to let him in.

Niall eyes him suspiciously, “Shouldn’t you be sitting down?”

“Let’s leave all questions until after I tell you my plan, alright? Alright.”

\--

By the time they're (mostly Niall) finished, the living room area is looking exactly like how Harry envisioned it, except better because it’s actual reality now. 

Well, Harry actually envisioned this set up being outside in his garden, but the clouds were still grey with rain, so he had to go with the next best thing: an indoor picnic. 

The couch and the coffee table were pushed back to give enough room for a rather big blanket to be laid over the carpet. There was a picnic basket on the edge, filled with a bottle of wine, little sandwiches and Louis’ favorite cookies. Harry also made a small chartreuse board with grapes and different variations of meats, cheeses and crackers he knew Louis would appreciate, as well. 

There were also rose petals spread around the picnic blanket, as well as comfy pillows, but the most important bit of it all was the bouquet of red and white tulips, Harry was very specific about. He remembered Louis mentioning some time ago how tulips were his favorite, and after a quick search on their meaning, Harry was set on getting him the prettiest tulips he could find, that evoked everything he wanted to say without words. 

All in all, it was a very beautifully cliché set up, and Harry couldn’t be prouder. 

“Think we did a pretty good job, Ni.” Harry smiles, assessing over every little detail. It had to be absolutely perfect. 

“All thanks to me, of course,” Niall jokingly boasts. Harry can’t even deny it, though. He’d be screwed if Niall wouldn’t be able to help him. None of his friends could since they’re off in Montreal for a game, and his family was all out of town. Harry's never been this thankful for one of Niall’s dates rain checking him ahead of time. 

“Good luck mate, let me know how it ends.” Niall winks. 

“Pray for me,” Harry nervously chuckles as he lets Niall out.

With a promise to update him after, Harry was left all alone again and anxiously waiting for Louis to come back. He should be home soon, since he’s been gone for quite a bit and every second he’s not here is a second Harry grows more nervous.

Eventually, he hears the keys rattle against the door and in comes Louis, barely managing to balance the large reusable bag on his shoulders as he gets inside.

“Oof, it’s really starting to rain out, now,” Louis huffs as he puts the bags down, sighing in relief as he finally managed to put them down and give his back a break. “You’ll never guess what I saw at the store,” He giggles, turning to Harry, “Basically-”

Harry sits on top of the picnic blanket on the floor, heart thrumming in his ears and grasping the bouquet of tulips because he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands. 

Louis takes a few steps forward, eyeing the picnic set up before letting his sight fall back onto Harry. 

“Harry…” He says, bewildered, “What's all this for?”

“I just…” _Damn it,_ all this time to think over a speech and suddenly his mind completely blanks out, “Just wanted to do something nice for you.”

A soft smile makes it’s way on Louis’ lips as he sits down, beside Harry on the blanket. 

“Who helped you do all this?” He asks.

Harry playfully scoffs, “No one, I did it all by myself.”

Louis shoots him a look.

“Okay, fine,” Harry admits, “Niall helped me out while you were gone. Do you...do you like it?”

“Is this why you needed me out of the house?” Louis smiles, raising a brow. 

Harry burns up, “Maybe…”

Louis softly chuckles and picks up a few loose petals, “Yeah, I love it, actually.”

“I actually wanted to do this outside but, uh. You know, rain,” He stammers, “But, um. Oh- these are for you.”

Harry nervously holds out the tulips for Louis, and with a light tint on his cheeks, Louis takes them, “White and red,” He hums, bringing them up against his nose for a quick scent of the flowery aroma, “I love them, Harry.”

“I’m glad,” Harry sincerely says, “I remember you telling me they’re your favorites, so…”

“You’re right,” He smiles, “So...what exactly is all this?”

“I, uh,” Harry swallows dryly, “It’s a....a thank you? For dealing with me, I, uh. Having to deal with me and my....shitty attitude, quite frankly.”

Louis smirks, cocking an eyebrow, “Red tulips to thank me?”

Harry chews on his lower lip nervously.

Louis puts the tulips down beside him, and for a second, Harry thinks he screwed everything up between them. Doing all this was a huge risk for him and the last thing he wanted was to ultimately make things weird and awkward between them, which would ultimately end up with Louis quitting his job and moving back home, away from Harry. 

But then, Louis scoots closer to him and brings his arms up to wrap around Harry’s shoulders in a tight, warm hug. Harry’s taken by surprise by how sudden it was, but his shoulders sag in relief as he wraps his arms around Louis’ petite frame, bringing him as close to his chest as possible. 

All too soon for his liking, Louis breaks away from the hug, only leaning back so their faces are only an inch away. 

“Thank you, Harry.” He whispers between them, “For everything.”

Harry can’t help but let his eyes drop to Louis’ lips. They’re so pink and pretty, so soft looking as Louis smiles and Harry just-

“Lou…” He mumbles. 

“Yeah,” Louis says, tilting his head ever so slightly as he leans in, until his lips barely graze on Harry’s. The latter couldn’t even help himself as he finally closed off the small distance between them, fitting their lips together in a short kiss that sent fireworks all over Harry’s body.

Louis’ lips were just as soft and perfect as they looked, and they fit perfectly with Harry’s, like two pieces of a puzzle together. Louis softly moans into the kiss as Harry takes the lead, bringing Louis impossibly closer to him by his hips as he presses his tongue in, gently catching Louis’ and only stopping when Louis smiles into the kiss, that turns into sweet little giggles. 

Both of them blush as they pull away, yet still keep their arms around each other. Somewhere in between the kiss, Harry’s hands had dropped down to Louis’ hips, resting dangerously close to the swell of his ass, but never once sliding too low. 

“I really like you, Lou,” Harry confesses, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, “I’ve liked you for a while now, to be honest.” 

Louis blushes deeply under his gaze, “I...like you too, Harry.”

Harry’s chest warms up, not being able to help himself before pulling Louis in for another kiss. It feels as though all of his prayers had been heard.

This might be the best day of his life. 

“You’re so cute,” Harry grins, before pressing a butterfly kiss on the tip of Louis’ nose and loving how Louis blushes under his gaze, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

Louis smiles, “I think I might have an idea…”

They’re all smiles as lean in again and this kiss feels even better than the one before. Louis’ soft lips feel like heaven against Harry’s, and it takes everything to not slide his tongue between them and take this further. He’s content with the soft kisses, and his heart melts as he feels Louis smile into them. 

Louis giggles as they pull apart, since Harry’s always back to place butterfly kisses on his lips. He turns his head to the side so Harry catches his cheek, lathering the smoothly shaved skin with his lips before pulling back and leaning their foreheads together.

“Are we going to talk about this?” Harry whispers like it’s a secret between them.

“No,” Louis shakes his head, “Only cuddles and enjoying this lovely picnic, now.”

Harry doesn’t mind it, not when he enjoys a selection of cookies and sandwiches with Louis by his side, and being able to kiss him just as much as he wanted to.

\-------

For the first time in months, Harry doesn’t wake up alone in bed. 

He’s up early, as usual, despite staying up with Louis until late into the night, talking and kissing. They didn’t even realize how late it was until Harry glanced at his phone and saw that it was almost four in the morning, and much to his surprise, Louis followed him right into his bedroom. They ended up in bed together, Harry down to his sweatpants and almost having a heart attack when Louis came out of his bathroom wearing nothing but one of Harry’s t-shirts, that ended mid-thigh. He must’ve been wearing something else underneath, but Harry couldn’t tell and seeing Louis’ bare thighs caused his heart (and groin) to warm up with excitement. 

They cuddled together as if the bed didn’t have enough room to spread out, Harry on his back with Louis pressed into his chest. They shared lazy kisses and sweet nothings until sleep eventually took over them, and it was probably the best sleep Harry’s ever had. 

Louis’ still in his arms as Harry wakes up, with his arms tucked in between their chests and both facing each other. He looks just as beautiful when he’s asleep as when he’s awake; soft, serene and even the little bit of drool pooling on the pillow beneath his head is a lot more endearing than it should be. 

Harry’s head is still fuzzy with sleep, but even then he recognizes how beautiful Louis is and how fucking lucky he was to even have Lou in his life. He’s everything Harry’s ever wanted and more, and after their blowout, Harry was certain this never would’ve happened and yet, here he was, holding Louis in his arms as he slept, and cherishing every second of his quiet snores and the way his messy, sleep ridden fringe fell into his eyes. 

Harry gently brings the hand resting on Louis’ hip up to tuck that loose strand away, and Louis’ must’ve sensed it, since he lightly squeezed his eyes before groaning as he lazily blinked himself away. 

“Morning, baby,” Harry smiles. Louis groans again, before fitting his head in the nape of Harry’s neck and cuddling closer to get those extra five minutes. 

The day has barely even started and Harry’s already smiled so much. 

“Mm, _baby_ ,” Lou mumbles into his neck. _He must like it, then._

Harry presses a kiss against the side of his head., “Sleep well?”

“So good,” Louis yawns, “Gimme five more minutes.”

Five minutes end up being two hours, but it’s two hours of falling in and out of sleep, with sweet kisses and cuddles in between and Harry can’t complain. That was probably the best way to wake up and he wouldn’t mind waking up like this everyday.

The only reason they end up getting up from bed is because Louis’ stomach grumbles loudly for food between them. If Harry could, he’d be running downstairs to cook something up for him and serve breakfast in bed, but even though Louis just wants to sleep in, Harry’s knee hasn’t yet fully recovered, so reluctantly, he forces himself out of bed. 

Before he can get up, Harry leans over to press his lips against his, sealing in some good morning pecks before Louis’ giggling under him and pressing a hand against his chest so he could get up. Harry eventually lets him go, and leans back against his pillows as he watches Lou walk all barefoot and pretty out the room downstairs to get their food ready.

\----

It’s fair to say neither of them did much other than cuddle on the couch all day. The rain was still heavy outside and there wasn’t much to do anyways, so a movie marathon and Louis cuddling on Harry’s good side under a warm blanket would do for the day, and Harry was loving every second of it. 

Still, he wasn’t naïve. He knew there was still a lot to talk about, but neither of them wanted to burst that happy bubble of honeymoon phases with serious talk, so it was a day filled with overly-sweet cuddles and kisses. 

But then, as they’re finishing up their dinner, the bubble bursts.

“So...what do we do from here?” Louis asks. Harry was already expecting a conversation like this to come up, but it still left him just as nervous. He was worried they wouldn’t want the same thing, despite barely leaving each others’ side all day. 

“What do you want to do?” Harry sits up on the chair against the island. 

“What do you want?” He turns the question over to him. Louis might’ve been just as nervous for this conversation, even if he was the one starting it in the first place. 

“I want to be with you,” Harry says, “Y’know, make it official. That’s what I want in the end.”

“I want that too,” He timidly admits, “But…” Harry tries not to flinch, “I also want to keep this job, Harry. I don’t...I don’t know if we could even date, you know?”

It’s a valid concern, and Harry’s suddenly glad he’d obsessively done his research on it ages ago.

“It’s not...illegal, if that’s what you're worried about,” Harry assures him, “Could be a bit frowned upon, but it’s- we _can_ , if we want to.”

“Okay,” Louis nods, “Okay. That’s good to know.”

Silence falls on them for a second. 

“So, do we…”

“I’m, um,” Louis blushes, looking away momentarily, “I haven’t dated in a while, if I’m honest, so maybe we could…”

“We can take it slow, Lou,” Harry says, “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Louis smiles in relief, “Take it one day at a time, yeah?”

Harry grins at the implication behind it, “So, we’re dating now?”

“I think so.” Louis giggles. 

Harry almost jumps in joy, and he probably would’ve, had his knee never been injured in first place. Without thinking twice, Harry holds Louis’ cheeks between his hands and seals it with a kiss, and if both of them smile into it, no one else has to know. 

\-----

After that night where they finally sat down and talked about which page they were, they spent the rest of the week testing out the waters and getting more and more comfortable with each other.

Harry didn’t mention their relationship status to anyone, since they weren’t official yet and he didn’t want to speak too soon, but he made the mistake of mentioning it to Niall, specifically how well that indoor picnic went, and now every time Niall’s over, he giggles whenever Harry and Louis are in the same room together. Louis thinks it’s cute, Harry wants to dig himself in a hole. 

Other than that, it’s been a really pleasant week with Louis. Harry thought it’d be different now that they’re dating, but all that's really changed between them is now they get to make out whenever they want. Ever since they’ve started...whatever it is they've started, Harry's mood has been considerably better.

He _definitely_ feels better when he’s sitting on the couch, with Louis mounted on his lap, and with his hands holding tightly onto Louis’ hips as they deeply kiss. Their tongues slot against each other, desperately tasting each other as Harry lets his hands wander down Louis’ back and onto the lovely curve of his ass. Louis moans into the kiss as Harry squeezes his cheeks, unintentionally rutting his hips forward and taking their breaths away. 

It’s fair to say the movie playing in the background was long forgotten. 

As Harry pulls back in for another wet kiss, he keeps a hand on Louis’ ass while the other slides under his sweater, fingers warming up as he revels in the softness of Louis’ skin. His hand slides upwards on his spine before lowering back down, and Harry tries not to smile as Louis whimpers between them.

Harry takes it as a good sign and is about to pull Louis’ sweater off of him, when Louis’ hands unravel from Harry’s shoulders and slide down to his chest, pushing him back as he pulls away.

Confused, Harry recedes and places his hands back on Louis’ hips and away from any exposed skin.

“S’everything okay, Lou?” He asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis blushes, “I just...your knee.”

“It’s alright, baby,” Harry assures him, “S’not even hurting, I’d tell you if it were.”

Louis nods, but makes no move to lean in, so there’s obviously something else on his mind.

“What’s on your mind, babe?” Harry asks, gently rubbing the side of his thighs, up to his hips in a comforting matter.

“I haven’t…” He flushes, “Haven’t done...anything in a while and…”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Lou,” Harry says, “I wasn’t lying when I said that the first time. If you want to take it slow, we’ll take it slow. I’ve got no issue with that.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis blushes as he plays with Harry’s t-shirt.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, Louis,” he assures him, “I’m not going to push you into doing something you’re not ready for yet. Let’s just go back to the movie, yeah?”

“Well,” Louis bites his lower lip, settling his hips back to where it feels amazing for Harry, “I still want to…”

“Want to _what_ , Lou?” Harry raises a brow.

Louis flushes deeper on his lap, “Can I wank you off?”

Harry’s eyes widen in surprise, neither him nor his dick expecting this conversation to take this route. His half hard cock twitches under Louis as he looks down at him expectantly. There isn’t a universe out there where Harry’d ever refuse a wank from Louis. 

“Yeah,” Harry chokes, “Yeah, babe. Whatever you want.”

Louis' lips spread into a smile, which turn into fits of giggles as Harry pulls him back down to attach their lips together. 

Harry’s hands are back on Louis’ ass, squeezing and rutting it against his hardening cock. He knows Louis feels it with the way he’s gasping and moaning between their lips, and Harry’s eyes roll to the back of their heads as Louis pushes back onto Harry’s thighs and brings his smaller hand between them, feeling out his prominent bulge, before fitting his hand on it and sliding his grip over Harry’s sweatpants.

Louis’ hand feels amazing already, but it turns better as he parts their lips to look down between them as he slips Harry’s constricted cock out of his sweatpants, watching with glazed over eyes as it pops up and falls back onto Harry’s stomach.

“You’re so big,” Louis awes as he closes a hand around his base, though his fingers are far from touching each other. Louis looks so fucking hot holding his cock like that, and his widened eyes to wonders to stroke his ego. 

“Yeah, baby?” He grunts as Louis slowly and dryly strokes his pulsing length, coaxing it into full hardness.

“Yeah,” Louis breathes. “Can’t even fit my hand around you.”

Harry lets his head fall back as Louis flicks his wrist, moaning every time Louis’ thumb rubbed against his slit. This was fucking amazing, better than what Harry envisioned, and when he couldn’t think it’d get any better, Louis momentarily takes his hand off of him, only to spit on his palm and grip Harry’s cock again, making the glide easier and sending Harry over the moon.

“ _Fuck_ , baby,” He groans, “Come here.”

Louis smiles as he lets Harry’s hand on the back of his neck guide him into his lips, slotting them back together and squeezing Louis’ ass every time he rubbed against Harry’s tip. Despite Harry being the one getting jacked off, Louis’ a pantering mess above him, moaning and gasping at Harry’s girth and with all the attention his ass is getting. 

As Louis fits another hand on Harry’s cock, twisting and jerking Harry off, and still being unable to hide his cock, there’s a familiar heat wavering on Harry’s lower abdomen, and as he brings Louis impossibly closer to him, his balls tighten up and with a low grunt, Harry jizzes all over his t-shirt and Louis’ hand. 

Louis smiles into the kiss as he slowly pulls away, jacking Harry off as he comes down from his high until he’s got nothing else to give. He feels like he’s in heaven as Louis brings his jizz covered hand to his mouth, and kitten licks Harry’s spunk until his hand is all nice and clean.

“You’re fucking amazing,” Harry groans, before sitting up and bringing Louis in again for a much needed kiss, and tasting himself in the process. Louis begins to uncomfortably shift above him, though, so Harry pulls back to check on him.

“You alright, babe?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Louis blushes, “Just…”

Harry’s eyes drift lower to Louis’ crotch, and his eyes widen at the obvious wet patch on his sweatpants. Despite literally just jizzing a few seconds ago, Harry’s cock still twitches where it’s softening on his dirty t-shirt. 

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry grins, “You love wanking me off, don’t you? Didn't even touch you and you made a mess for me.”

“Harry,” Louis whines above him, “You’re so nasty,” He giggles. 

“Yeah, but you like me.” He teases. 

“Still trying to figure that one out,” Louis smiles as he tucks Harry back in his sweatpants before getting off his lap, careful enough to avoid Harry’s knee.

“I’m gonna go take a shower, now,” Louis announces.

“Can I-”

“Nope,” Louis stops him before he can finish, “I’ll be back soon, you just rest now.”

Harry groans and lets his head fall back against the couch. He’d love to join Louis in his shower instead of having to lay away from him and wait til he can get his hands off him again, but then Louis’ coming back to quickly peck Harry’s lips before leaving again and Harry can’t even be mad. 

He’s happy, really happy.

\-------

The thing about being in a life changing accident, leaving him mostly on bed rest is the inevitable boredom that comes with it.

Harry’s always been one to be up on his feet doing something, and even after all this time, he still hasn’t gotten used to keeping any physical activities to a limit. Going from waking up at the crack of dawn to work out pretty much all day, to restricting himself by walking around the house here and there and doing his physical therapy sessions is a very strong contrast and on bad days, pure torture for him. 

He’s got things and people to entertain himself with, but he’s watched enough movies to last a lifetime and doesn’t think he’s spent this much time on his phone now than ever in his lifetime, and none of these distractions could ever fully replace the feeling of being active and on ice. 

When it comes to taking his mind off things, Louis’ been perfect at helping him out. He’s already been great at holding his attention and making him feel a little less shitty, and now that they’ve been unofficially dating for a few weeks and getting to know each other more, Harry likes being distracted by Louis’ little kisses. 

But right now, Harry’s having a hard time diverting his attention to something else. 

For a while, Harry's lost track of where his team was playing, and with who, but he’s all caught up now and very much aware of how the Hawks are set to have a game close by and how, if the accident never happened, he’d be right there with them. 

His therapy sessions have helped him deal with these sorts of issues he was facing, all the ‘what ifs’ in his mind, so he’s handling the situation a lot better than he would’ve had he still been in the same mindset in the early stages. 

Still, Harry would do anything to be a part of that game. 

“Harry?” Louis’ voice brings him back down to earth. He hadn’t even realized Netflix had turned off due to lack of usage. 

He clears his throat, “Yeah? Everything okay?” 

“Yes, I’m fine,” He says, taking a seat beside Harry on the couch, “I just got a call from Richard, s’all.”

“Oh?”

“He was asking about you, saying you weren’t picking up your calls,” Louis says.

Harry looks around for his phone, but he fails to find it, even on the crevices of the couch.

“Must’ve left it upstairs,” Harry mentions, “What was he saying, though? Was it just a check up?”

“Well, no,” Louis admits, “There’s, uh, a game going on tomorrow with the Hawks and since it’s not too far, he was wondering if you wanted to go.”

“Oh.” 

“I mean, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Louis tells him, “But, you know. Since you’re getting better at walking and standing on your own, maybe this could be something...you’d like? 

Harry’s first instinct is to shoot the offer down and pretend he wasn’t even invited to watch the game. It makes him feel anxious, just thinking about it and he’s not sure exactly how well he’d react by being in that rink and so close, yet so far away from playing. 

But there’s also this huge part of him that misses being a part of it. Even watching games from the side lines is one of Harry’s favorite things to do and it’s been ages since he’s watched a game that wasn’t on his TV. Plus, it goes without saying that he’s got a lot of love and respect for his team, and he’d love to be there in support. 

So clearly, he’s left with a lot to process and even more to think about. 

“Think about it, yeah? There’s no pressure, Harry.” Louis presses a quick kiss on the corner of Harry’s lips. 

Harry nods, but he can’t help but feel there’s a little bit of pressure on him, and it makes thinking a whole lot harder than it should be. 

Harry’s still not sure if it was an impulse decision or not, but for the first time in months, he’s dressed in decent clothes to go out with his mullet freshly washed and styled, instead of simply air dried and left it as is since he had nowhere to go, and the only one he’d want to impress had already seen him at his worse. 

He’d been nervous all day, ever since he let Louis know he wanted to go see his team’s game, and it only worsened as he was dressed and ready to leave in time. Louis was ready as well, wearing a very flattering pair of black skinny jeans and a brown sweater that looked oversized on his smaller frame. He wore a black coat as well and beanie to tie it all together, and if Harry wasn’t so anxious, he doubts he’d be able to hold himself back when Louis’ looking like a whole snack. 

A car eventually arrives to take them to the rink, big enough so Harry could sit with his leg stretched out in front of him, and even as Harry stands up with Louis’ help, Louis still lets him know they could stay back if he wanted to. Harry couldn’t do that, not when he was already sort of mentally prepared to go, and had people expecting to see him there. 

The drive is mostly silent, but Harry’s got his hand laced with Louis’, and squeezes it once in a while when his head gets too muddled up. 

As they finally reach the rink, the car stops in a parking lot already filled to the brim. It’s a sight that hits a lot harder than it should, and Harry needed an extra ten minutes in the car with Louis, just breathing and squeezing his hand. Louis sat close to him for that, whispering assurances that Harry definitely needed to hear and giving him short pecks on his cheek to calm him down. 

It works well enough that soon enough, Harry gets the strength to get out of the car and head into the rink to watch his first live game in months. 

Harry’s got one hand tied with Louis’ and another holding onto a crutch and there’s a flash of guilt he feels for squeezing Louis’ delicate hand tightly as they walk inside. Louis makes no noise of complaint, but Harry still feels pretty bad over it.

The bleachers are mostly filled up already even though there’s still some time before the game starts and it’s foreign for Harry to be on the other side. Usually, he’d either be finishing up his pre-game practice or checking if his stick wasn’t broken and his skates were sharp. Now, he’s heading to a premium seating area with Louis and avoiding curious gazes his way. 

“Are you alright?” Louis asks him.

“I think so, yeah,” Harry swallows, “Just nervous. I think people are recognizing me.”

“Even with a mullet?” Louis teases. 

Harry laughs, “I guess a great hairstyle doesn’t mean a great disguise.”

Louis smiles and brings a hand up to brush a strand of Harry’s hair, “I’m not changing your hair any time soon, though. You look way too good with a mullet to change it back.”

“You’ve won me over, babe,” Harry admits. 

Harry’s really grateful for Louis, because as they wait for the game to start, Louis helps him keep his nerves at bay and actually get him excited for the game. 

Louis’ got his hands on a bag of pretzels by the time the game begins, and like a switch, the bitterness and resentment Harry had over not being able to play, gets overshadowed by a rush of excitement from the crowd and just like them, Harry and Louis cheer along for the Toronto Hawks, who don’t aim for anything less than a win. 

\------

It’s not as much of a surprise as it is that the Hawk won, yet again. Harry’s incredibly proud of all his teammates for sticking through, even when the odds were against them and getting them another victory. Harry could cry over how proud he was. 

“That was so good,” he says to Louis, “I can’t believe you doubted the Hawks with this one.”

“I didn’t _doubt_ them,” Louis corrects him, “They were just so tied together, how was I supposed to know who’d win?”

“Well-”

“Styles,” Coach Tudor stops them. Neither of them saw him coming, and after so long, it’s actually strange to see his coach like this. 

“Coach, hi,” He says. Harry doesn’t fail to notice how his coach’s eyes drop to his crutch and the tight grip he’s got on Louis’ hand to support him, and it stings a little.

“How’re you holding up?” He asks. 

“I-” _‘ve been better_ , “I’m good. Recovery’s going well.”

“That’s great to hear, Styles,” He says, sounding more than relieved, “Listen, it’s great to see you back here. Have you been skating lately?”

“Uh, no.” Harry frowns, “I’ve just been walking around, really. Still need some crutches sometimes.”

“Ah, I see,” He nods. Harry can’t tell if he’s disappointed or just concerned, and he doesn’t know which is better, “Well, don’t forget there’s always a spot for you when you’ve recovered. Hopefully you’ll be back before the season ends and play a game with us. We definitely miss you in the team.”

“Thanks, Coach,” Harry grins, “I’ll try my best.”

After a quick catch up, Coach Tudor leaves to get back with his team, and Harry’s left with a huge urge to push himself harder, so he could hopefully still play a game. There’s still a massive chance he’ll be out for the rest of the season, but all this excitement from today left him feeling more driven than before and ready to take this risk.

“Do you want to go see your teammates?” Louis asks. If Harry’s coach never approached them, Harry’d most likely want to head out and send his team a text in their group chat over how well they played and how proud Harry was, but he was so high on the adrenaline of this game, that the thought of seeing his teammates and friends didn’t freak him out so much.

“Yeah,” Harry smiles, “Let’s go.”

\-----

“Louis,” Harry groans, “Can you just- _ow_!”

Louis giggles as he bit hardly on Harry’s earlobe before going back to nibbling on Harry’s neck. 

“Lou, babe,” Harry holds back a moan, “The PT’s about to come over, can we just- _wait_ until he leaves?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Louis hums. 

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry groans. He doesn't know what exactly spurred Louis into this mood. He’d been fine all day, and just now as they sat on the couch to chill after lunch, Louis sat on his lap, and their small little pecks turned into full on making out. If he keeps this up, Harry’s not sure he’ll be able to survive to see another day, “I don’t want to start what we can’t finish. He just told me he’s almost here.”

“Hmm…” Louis gets off Harry's lap to sit beside him, putting his legs over Harry's lap. Twirling one of Harry's loose curls from his mullet, “If you do well in this session, I’ll let you inside of me.”

The doorbell rings just as Louis finishes his sentence with a kiss on Harry’s cheek, and Harry almost cries. 

Lately, him and Louis have been more intimate together. Louis’ been getting more comfortable each time and though it’s mostly been handjobs, blowjobs and that one time Harry dryly rubbed his fingers against Louis’ hole, Harry’s yet to be inside Louis.

And all this blue balling isn’t helping him one bit. 

Louis sways his hips as he goes to open the door while Harry desperately tries to will his half mast away. He’s not making it any easier, and Harry’s sweating when the PT walks in.

“Hello, Harry,” He smiles, “Are you ready for today's session?”

Harry quickly glances behind him, where Louis’ cocking his hip to the side and shooting him a wink that makes his throat dry up in an instant.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The session feels like it takes longer than usual, probably because this time, Louis decides to linger. He catches Harry’s eyes in the worst times possible, specifically when he’s bent over the kitchen island, while pretending to clean it and by the time the sessions’ over, he’s not sure how he didn’t get a full hard on with the show Louis was pulling.

“Great work today, Harry. You’ve been showing so much progress, that I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to drive again after the next session,” He grins, “And maybe even go as far as skating again, isn’t that great?”

Harry’s eyes widen in surprise, he can hardly believe what he just heard, “Really?”

“Yes, really,” The PT smiles politely, “Just keep up the good work and stick to your exercises, and you’ll be back on ice before you know it. Though it’s really important to watch out for yourself until you’ve fully regained your strength.”

“So no extra hours at the rink?” Louis’ voice pipes up.

“Not more than he has to, for a while, I’m afraid,” the PT says. Richard’s gonna have a field day with that one, that’s for sure. 

“Anyways, good job today, Harry,” He says, “Remember to keep up with your exercises and I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

Harry’s ecstatic with the news, and can hardly wait to get to his exercises now that he’s got something to look forward to. 

Louis shows the physical therapist out politely, taking his time. Once he returns back to the living room, where Harry’s now sat on the couch, he’s reminded of what went down earlier. 

“So, that went well,” Harry says. 

“I think it did, too,” Louis agrees. Louis’ acting so nonchalant, Harry can feel himself break out in a sweat all over again. He was already sweating from the session, but it only worsens as Louis calmly sits down beside him on the couch. 

Harry clears his throat, “I heard we had a deal.”

“Did we?” Louis feigns confusion, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harry let’s his jaw go slack, “Baby…”

“Yes, Harry?” Louis pretends to be on his phone, but Harry knows it’s all for this little game he’s playing. He scoots closer to him and brings an arm over his shoulders, keeping him close as Harry starts to drop butterfly kisses on his sweet spot. 

He smiles to himself when he hears Louis suck in a breath.

“Don’t you remember?” He drops another kiss, “Think you said something about letting me inside you.”

“Oh?” Louis breathes, “I don’t- _agh_ ,” He moans as Harry bites on his neck, sliding his tongue over the sore spot to sooth it over, “Don’t think I recall.”

“Maybe if we go upstairs, you’ll remember?” Harry smirks. Louis bites his lower lips as he chucks his phone to the side and finally glances at Harry.

Smiling devilishly, Louis looks up from under his eyelashes. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Hungrily, Harry leans in at the same time Louis does, crashing their lips together as if their lives depended on it. Louis’ arms circle around Harry’s shoulders as he deepens the kiss, holding onto him as their tongues glide against each other. Harry’s hands drift lower to Louis’ bum.

No matter how many times he’s squeezed Louis’ ass, Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of it. It’s so big and perky, perfect for Harry’s hands. 

“Bedroom,” Louis gasps. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry’s heart races faster as Louis gets off him and helps him up. 

If Harry could, he’d pick Louis up and take him upstairs, Louis’ limbs wrapping themselves around his body. But even as he’s recovering well, he doesn’t wait to put any unnecessary strain on himself and set all his progress back. Not that Louis’ that heavy, anyways. 

It should feel like a turn off with how careful they’re heading up the stairs, despite the frenzy they’re in to get to Harry’s bedroom, but Louis doesn’t seem to mind it at all. That, in itself, kind of turns Harry on, weirdly enough. 

Once they reach Harry’s bedroom, Harry pulls away from Louis’ delicious lips to pull off his own t-shirt before reaching for the hem of Louis’ sweater. They lock their lips back together when it’s off, and blindly walk until the back of Harry’s legs reach his bed. Harry’s hands grip on Louis’ small waist, loving how soft and tiny he was and he didn’t want to let go. 

His knee started to strain though, so he bit Louis’ bottom lip, reveling in the sweet moan he makes before pulling away and carefully laying back on his bed. 

Harry’s gripping his covered cock as Louis stands on the edge of the bed, turning around so his back is facing Harry, swaying his hips as he starts to take his leggings off. Harry wolf whistles at the show he’s putting on, making Louis laugh before he bends over as he slides the fabric down his smooth legs, showing off his lovely arse with a black thong framing it so perfectly, yet so rudely covering his pretty hole from Harry’s hungry eyes.

“Fuck, baby,” Harry moans as he palms himself, “You’re so fucking sexy. Come sit on my lap, yeah?”

Louis giggles as he crawls on top of the bed and between Harry’s knees, “Think we need to get rid of these first.” 

Harry grins as pushes his hips up so Louis can drag his sweatpants and boxer briefs down his legs. Once they’re off, he throws them somewhere across the room, revealing Harry’s large, thick cock, resting against his stomach and waiting for Louis. 

“That’s more like it,” Louis smiles to himself as he crawls over Harry’s body, comfortably sitting on his lap before leaning down and holding himself up to place his lips against Harry’s. Harry’s hands go straight to Louis’ ass, squeezing the warm flesh of his ass, and loving how thick and perfect he was. 

Harry caresses Louis’ ass before bringing his hands up and slapping down on them, watching how it jiggles and making Louis unexpectedly gasp in mouth and rut over Harry’s pulsing cock. Harry rubs his palms over the warm, reddened areas, soothing them before he spreads Louis’ cheeks. Louis sweetly moans into his lips as Harry’s index rubs against where his thong covers his hole. Louis’ moans sound like heaven in his ears, so sweet and go straight down to Harry’s pulsing cock. Fuck, Harry needs to get his mouth on him. 

“Turn around, baby.” Harry grunts as he pulls away. 

Louis’ confused for a second before a lightbulb goes off in his head and, careful not to accidentally nudge on Harry’s knee, he turns over and holds himself above Harry on all fours. Harry’s hands land on Louis’ hips as he’s fully settled, pulling him closer to his face. Louis jolts and catches himself with his hands landing on either side of Harry's hips, with Harry’s cock standing upright and pointing to his face.

Louis grips Harry's cock the same time Harry spreads Louis’ cheeks, and Harry has to bite back a moan at the feel of Louis’ warm hand on his pulsing cock and to being this close to his perfect hole. Harry doesn’t waste any time with pushing his black thong to the side, revealing the prettiest, pinkest hole he’s ever seen in his life. 

He’s mesmerized by the pretty ring, jaw slack and probably drooling every time Louis clenches around nothing. He can’t wait a second longer before he’s bringing Louis’ hips back against his face and licking a wet, fat stripe against his hole.

“ _Agh_! Harry!”

“Taste so good, baby.” Harry moans into his heavenly opening, before pulling him back in and circling his tongue around the tight ring of muscle, spreading his tongue all around and loving every taste of him.

Louis moans loudly, making Harry's cock grow harder. Harry continues licking and tasting him, twirling his tongue around his rim as Louis finally manages to compose himself and licks around Harry's tip, wetting it and kissing it before suckling it into his mouth, the same time he jerks what he can’t fit into his mouth. 

It becomes harder to focus on licking Louis out properly when he’s sucking Harry's cock so well, so he’s sloppy about it, wetting his chin as his tongue glides all over, from Louis’ sweet edges, to around his sweet spot. He feels his scruff scratch against Louis’ soft skin around his hole, but the little red marks he knows he’s leaving behind only make Harry want to keep going. 

Louis’ moans deeply as Harry prods his tongue against his hole, barely pushing it inside his velvety walls. Those whimpers send little vibrations around Harry’s cock, and Harry's hips jerk up when Louis almost deepthroats him, surprising him completely but loving it altogether.

“Sorry, baby,” He grunts, “You're so fucking good, my perfect little cock sucker.”

Louis whines in return as Harry continues to eat him out, and he’s getting for fidgety and harder to keep still. It’s so fucking hot how Harry makes him feel this way, barely able to hold himself together. 

Louis’ bobbing his head on Harry’s cock, sucking in just right and Harry can’t take it anymore. He takes his aching jaw from Louis’ hole, only to suck on his finger, wetting it enough before getting his tongue back on Louis’ entrance, and slipping a finger in as he prods his tongue in.

A loud gasp escapes Louis as he gets his mouth off of Harry’s thick cock. His arms weaken and he can’t hold himself up as Harry pushes his finger in and out of Louis’ tight walls, falling over with his ass up and face buried in the matress beside Harry’s good knee. He’s still got a faint grip on Harry’s 

" _Fuck_ , baby, need to fuck you.” He groans.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis whimpers, sounding completely fucked out already and with a rasp in his voice that wasn’t there before, “Need your cock.”

As Louis gets off the top of Harry, Harry searches his bedside table for lube. He’s lucky to find it quickly, placing it on top of the bed for easier reach. When he’s ready, Louis’ sitting on his knees beside him with his thong off and thrown somewhere in the room, only to reveal his small cock, standing pink and perky and just as beautiful as Louis. 

Harry pats on his stomach and Louis gets back on top of him, leaning down, arching his back as Harry trails his lubed up fingers down his crack.

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis gasps. 

The first finger slides easily, welcomed into Louis’ warm velvet walls without too much effort, but Harry still gives it a few pumps before adding a second one, just to make sure he doesn’t hurt him. Louis shivers as he slowly pushes them in, holding his breath in until Harry’s knuckles reach his tight entrance. Louis’ squirming on his lap, scrunching his brows together as he adjusts to the added finger. In an attempt to distract Louis from the burning feeling of the stretch, Harry brings a hand up behind his neck and pulls him down for a gentle kiss. Harry can feel Louis loosening up with every glide of his tongue, and when he’s ready, Harry begins to pump his fingers in and out, feeling as Louis’ warmth pulls him in and spreads his fingers to spread him out. 

Louis’ a panting mess when Harry finds his prostate, rubbing against it with the tips of his fingers and swallowing down Louis’ pretty moans of pleasure. Louis can barely manage to properly kiss back. His head drops to the nape of Harry’s neck, whimpering against his skin and sloppily pressing his lips on the side, no doubt leaving a few love bites behind. 

Having Louis like this, so fucked out and loud when he’s only had Harry’s fingers so far, make Harry’s cock pulse. He can barely even believe Louis’ in bed with him, looking and sounding so fucking hot, he’s starting doubt his stamina and ability to last. 

“Feel good, baby?” Harry grunts as he pushes his fingers back inside Louis’ heat. 

“Yeah,” Louis slurs, “S-so good.” 

Louis keeps gasping and moaning on top of him, sloppily kissing as Harry adds a third finger, slipping it past his tight ring of muscle and thrusting them in as he stretches him out for him. Offhandedly, Harry wonders if he should add a fourth finger, since he’s not exactly packing light. Maybe his whole fucking fist, but that’d be something to think about later. 

“Harry, please,” Louis moans above him, “Your cock, now.”

Harry’s chest thrums with excitement. “Okay, baby.” He coos, “Do we need-”

“No,” Louis answers clearly, as if he wasn’t completely fucked out a second ago, “I’m clean, haven’t had sex in ages and I really want you in me bare, yeah?”

Harry in heaven, he’s sure of it.

“Yeah baby,” He grins, “Anything you want.”

“I’ll ride you, yeah?” Louis mumbles, “Sit on your cock.”

“Yeah,” Harry grins, “Yeah, baby.”

Louis sits up and smacks Harry’s hands away from the lube before grabbing it himself. He squeezes the clear liquid on his hand, bringing it behind him to coat Harry’s cock, that in between all the movement, was resting between Louis’ checks, so close yet so far from his precious little hole. 

Harry hisses at the cold feeling of the lube, barely warmed up by Louis’ hand. He generously lathers it on his cock, stroking him a couple of times to make sure it’s well spread. Louis smiles as Harry groans and lets his head fall back against the pillows. He’s got a grip on Louis’ thighs and squeezes them every time Louis runs his hand on his cock’s head. 

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry grunts. He can’t help but take in how Louis beautiful looks above him, how his tiny cock sits up so pretty, his soft pudge of a tummy, his perky little nipples calling his name. There’s a soft flush on his cheeks staring right back at him, pink and just as pretty as the rest of him. 

When he’s done, Louis lifts himself on his knees and guides Harry’s cock onto his entrance. Louis’ hand on Harry’s chest moves to his upper bicep, gripping it as Harry’s cock breaches his hole. Louis’ breath hitches at the sudden feeling of being so full of dick, even if he hadn’t even reached half of it. 

“Ah, fuck,” Louis moans, “You’re so fucking big, Harry. I don’t know if-”

“You can do it baby,” Harry squeezes Louis’ hips in encouragement, “So fucking perfect, I know you can take me.”

Louis takes a breather and gasps as he lowers his hips. Harry just looks at him in amazement as he slowly sinks down on his cock, taking him so well. He almost comes with how warm and velvety Louis’ walls feel without the barrier of a condom. 

Harry keeps his hands on Louis’ side, rubbing them up and down as Louis sinks down on his cock, and he doesn’t move his hands until Louis’ ass is resting on his hips, nestling his cock in his tight heat. 

“Harry,” He whimpers. Louis’ brows are furrowed and his chest raises as he lets himself adjust to Harry’s size. It’s clear by his face that he’s not used to being filled up like this and Harry tries to comfort him with soft touches and sweet nothings to make for an easier adjustment. 

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Harry assures him, “Taking my cock so well. Take your time, baby.”

Louis takes in a deep breath before leaning down to kiss him, careful not to let Harry’s cock move too much. Even as Harry beats him to it so he wouldn’t feel the shift in angle, Louis still gasps into his lips and stills against him to get used to it. Harry’s hands come up from his hips to his nipples, rubbing and pinching at the tiny nub to put the edge off. Louis breaths in relief before letting his lips attach to Harry’s once again, slowly moving them together with no rush whatsoever. Harry moans into it every time Louis clenches around him, eliciting a sweet giggle from the smaller one each time. 

After a couple more minutes, Louis sits back up, settling comfortable above Harry’s cock. It took a while, but he’s adjusted to Harry’s larger size and slowly but surely, Louis begins to move. 

A hum escapes his throat as he begins to swivel his hips, feeling him out and gasping whenever Harry’s cock brushes against his sweet spot. Harry’s hands were firmly put on Louis’ hips, holding him as he began to slowly lift himself up and down, tentatively and carefully, before his short little gasps turn into lustful moans as he bounces on Harry’s thick cock. Harry grunts each time Louis’ hole engulfs his length, and he’s leaving behind blaring red marks of his hands over how tightly he’s gripping on Louis' hips.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” Harry moans, “So tight on my cock.”

Louis’ bouncing slows down to a halt, and before Harry can even think about, Louis grinds his hips, swiveling them in figure eights and throws his head back with a gasp as Harry’s cock prods against his prostate.

“Harry,” Louis prettily moans, “Gonna come.”

Harry gently pushes his hips upwards, eliciting sweet gasps out of Louis as he nails his sweet bundle of nerves. 

“Yeah, baby,” He urges, “Come, baby. Make a mess for me, yeah?” 

Louis leans forward, holding himself above Harry as he pushes his hips back the same time Harry pushes his hips upwards, prodding against Louis’ prostate harder and faster than the last time. 

Suddenly, with a cry, Louis falls on his chest as he comes completely untouched, and it’s the hottest thing Harry’s ever witnessed. He clenches around Harry’s cock as he finishes, and soon after, Harry thrusts his hips and grunts as he spills hot, salty pumps of his cum inside of Louis, emptying out his heavy balls inside Louis’ tight warm hole, where it belongs. 

Neither of them make any signs of wanting to move as Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ back, keeping him cuddled against his chest.

Eventually, Louis starts complaining about the jizz drying between their chests, and reluctantly, Harry pulls his softened cock out of Louis, feeling his cum dribble as he pulls out. Harry doesn’t want any of it to go to waste, so he pushes his fingers inside Louis’ hole to keep his cum warm and nice in there. Louis lets him do his thing, too fucked out to even think much about it, but then he starts complaining about how sore he feels and, reluctantly, Harry takes them out, hoping his jizz won’t spill out too much. 

Louis falls to the side as Harry reaches over to grab his t-shirt to use as a rag. He spreads out on the mattress as Harry cleans him up, smiling to himself as Harry drops a kiss on his sternum when he’s done cleaning up a very fucked out Louis. 

“Was that good, baby?” He asks as he settles beside him. 

“I’ve had better,” Louis shrugs as he cuddles up next to him.

Harry’s head immediately shots up with his ego wounded before Louis’ giggling beside him.

“You’re so guillable,” He smiles as he kisses Harry’s cheek, “You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

Harry feels his shoulders sag in relief as Louis snuggles up on his chest. His arm instinctively reaches out to wrap around his back, pulling him impossibly closer to his body. Louis’ soft breathing fill the room, and before he knows it, Louis’ fallen asleep in a kitten nap. 

Harry smiles and presses his lips against the mess of his feathery hair, wondering how he got so lucky to have such a perfect person in his life. 

\-----

When Harry finally gets approved to be able to get back on ice, he almost cries. 

Actually, he _did_ cry. Tears of happiness fell down his cheeks as he hugged Louis tightly, filling his face with kisses and refusing to put him down until he fully processed how he was actually able to be going back on ice. The second after he put Louis down, he went straight to his ice hockey equipment to fix up his skate blades that were left unused for ages, and he never felt more like himself than at this point. 

His mum also cried when he called her to let her know and Niall immediately called for a celebration, as well as his teammates and Richard. He’s pretty sure the older man was jumping in joy when Harry called him to let him know, which would’ve been hilarious to watch. 

Harry’s so fucking excited, he can’t even keep to himself. 

“Louis?” He grins, “How do you feel about going out on a date to celebrate?”

\-----

“You know,” Louis starts, “When you asked out on this date, I was sort of expecting like, a nice dinner out, or maybe a drive-in movie.”

“What’s so bad about this?” Harry frowns.

“Nothing, I love it,” Louis assures him, “I just don’t know if having you watch me fall on my ass for our first date is exactly what I envisioned.”

Harry laughs, “I don’t think you need to worry about that, babe. I’ve literally seen your ass and loved every bit of it.”

“Oh, God,” Louis blushes, “There’s children around, Harry.”

“They can’t hear me over the sound of having too much fun, anyways.” Harry shrugs with a laugh.

Louis snorts, “I’m not sure how that works, but I’ll take it.”

“Yeah, you did,” He smirks, wiggling his eyebrows.

Louis rolls his eyes, pushing against Harry’s chest, “You’re insatiable.”

Harry simply laughs and laces his fingers with Louis as they get in line. Every winter, the city opens up a fake ice rink for a couple weeksand it’s usually packed with people. It’s been a tradition for so long, everyone’s already anxiously waiting all year for this rink to open up for the public to enjoy. 

Harry still remembers a few times he’s been here with his friends and since he’s known to skate for all his life, he’d get a few laughs in at watching them all hit the ice as Harry effortlessly skated around them. Niall's been here with him for plenty of years in a row, and it was always funny to see how after so many afternoons spent skating together, Niall never really got the hang of it.

Despite so many people being here, the line goes by quickly and soon enough, Harry and Louis are tying their own skates and getting inside the rink. Louis almost falls face flat as he barely even steps a foot inside.

“Ha-arry,” He whines, “This isn’t as easy as you make it seem, how the fuck do you do this?”

Harry chuckles, “You’ll get the hang of it, baby. Just hold onto my arm and keep your knees slightly bent, alright?”

“If you let me fall, I swear to God I’ll never let you near my ass ever again.” He threatens. 

“Now I _definitely_ won’t let you fall,” Harry grins, “Come one, babe. One foot at a time.”

Louis grumbles something under his breath, but follows Harry’s advice and keeps his knee bent as he steps his other foot inside the rink. He’s holding onto Harry for his dear life and whimpering as his feet are _literally_ slipping on ice. 

“You did it, baby!” Harry grins, “You’re standing on ice!”

“I don’t think it counts when you’re the only reason I haven’t slipped on my ass, yet.” Louis reasons. 

“Minor details,” Harry shrugs, “You think you can start skating?”

Louis pouts. “Only if you don’t let go.”

“I won’t,” Harry promises. 

Louis’ grip on Harry’s arm doesn’t lessen as they slowly make their way around the rink, and every time Louis’ foot slips forward, he yelps and holds onto Harry a little bit tighter. 

After watching so many ice hockey practices and games, and literally _unofficially_ dating an ice hockey player, Louis never thought skating would be this fucking difficult. Those big, buff men all make it seem so easy, and Louis’ even jealous of the younger kids who glide past him so easily. It’s hard not to take it personally.

Thankfully, like some sort of miracle, by the third lap, Louis feels like he’s steadier on his feet and loosens up his grip on Harry’s arm, but every time he slips a little, he’s back to holding onto Harry as tightly as before. 

“You’re a natural, baby,” Harry grins. 

Louis blushes, “I bet you say that to all the girls you bring down here.”

“Just the ones with pretty blue eyes and pretty smiles.” He smirks.

Louis rolls his eyes, yet he can’t keep himself from snorting. 

Though he’s mostly struggling with it, ice skating with Harry is pretty fun. It’s kind of weird and not exactly what Louis expected. But alas, it’s still pretty fun. Harry doesn’t mind the way Louis’ holding onto him the entire time as if he’d let him fall. Any excuse to be close to him, he’ll gladly take it. 

At some point in their nth lap, Louis releases his tight grip on Harry once again and braces his knees as he pushes himself on ice. He’s unbalanced and stumbles forward every now and then, but Harry’s always there to catch him. 

He might’ve taken him for granted, since on the next lap, Louis gets way too overconfident and as he loosens his grip on Harry again, he accidentally stumbles and throws his arms behind him in a way he’d only seen in cartoons. Harry manages to catch his hand a little too late, because in the next second, they’re both plunging over and crashing down on the ice. 

Louis’ about to start jokingly complaining over how he’s probably got a nasty bruise on his perfect bum, but as he looks at Harry, he immediately remembers his freshly recovered injury and starts to panic.

“Harry, oh my God,” He gasps, “Are you okay? Does your knee hurt? Do I need to call-”

Harry chuckles at him as he gets himself up, “I’m fine, Lou. This was nothing.”

Louis blinks, unsure, “Are you sure? Because-”

“If I wasn’t, would I be able to get up?”

That’s a very fair point. 

He brings his hands out and helps Louis up, pecking his lips when he’s steady on his feet.

“You know, it’s cute when you worry about me.” Harry smirks as they pull away.

“Yeah well, just let me know if anything hurts okay? And don’t get all stubborn on me please.” Louis fusses.

“Deal, baby,” Harry says, before Louis kisses him again, “Now, can we laugh about you falling and taking me down with you?”

After a few more laps around the rink of attempting to skate without Harry’s full assistance, Louis thinks he gets the hang of it. He’s balancing himself properly and only holding Harry’s hand and letting him guide him, when a kid zooms past him, causing Louis to crash to the ground once again. He’s whining on the ground as Harry laughs as he skates over to him, and he laughs along when Harry holds his hand out to pick him up. 

“My knight in shining armour,” He woos. 

“Always here to pick my princess up,” Harry smiles. 

By the end of their time slot, Louis thinks he’s not so terrible at ice skating anymore, but he’d much rather leave it for the professional player in the relationship. It’s much easier to sit on the sidelines and cheer for him than to actually be the one on ice. 

For a second, Louis thinks their date ends there, but instead of heading back to where Harry parked his car, Harry takes them on a short walk until they stop at a very cozy looking coffee shop.

“They serve the best hot chocolate here,” Harry says as they walk inside, “I think you’ll love it.”

Unsurprisingly, Louis does end up loving it. If it wasn’t so piping hot, Louis’ drink it all up in one go. But he’s got more respect for his throat and takes little sips until it’s cooled up enough. Harry smiles at the white line of marshmallows left behind on Louis’ upper lip, and doesn’t tell him about it until Louis’ halfway done. 

“So, yeah,” Louis finishes off, “I loved skating with you, but I don’t think I was born for it.”

“I think you were perfect, Lou,” Harry says, “You might even have a shot at joining the team.”

Louis snorts, “Please, I think your Coach would have a heart attack if he saw me play.”

Harry smiles, knowing Louis wasn’t too far off the truth. “But you had fun, yeah?”

“So much fun,” Louis grins. 

As Louis takes another sip of his hot chocolate, Harry suddenly feels a nervous warmth build up in his stomach. 

“Will you come here with me next year?” Harry tentatively asks.

“Of course,” Louis beams, “I mean, if I’m-if I’m still working with you.”

Harry almost wants to throw up with how nervous he is. 

“Louis, I can’t even tell you how amazing my time with you has been,” Harry starts, “Even from the first time we met, I knew there was something about you that I couldn’t get enough of. You’re so kind, caring and so beautiful and I don’t know where I’d be now if we’d never met.”

Louis’ eyes widen, “Harry-”

“I just…I can’t really picture my life without you now,” Harry admits, “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and I know you wanted to take things slow, Lou, but I just...I like you, so much, more than I’ve ever liked anyone before.”

Louis smiles, placing his hands on top of Harry’s where they’re resting on top of the table, palms up. Harry closes his hands around them, delighted.

“So, what I’m trying to say here is…” Harry swallows, looking up at those gorgeous baby blues, “Louis, will you be my boyfriend?”

“Are you really going to make me cry in public?” Louis smiles, “Of course, Harry. I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

Harry doesn’t think he could ever be happier than at this moment in time. 

Despite being very much in public, they’re sitting on the table in the furthest corner and there aren’t many people inside, so Harry leans in and holds Louis’ cheek as he fits their lips together. It’s sweet and short until both start smiling into it and eventually pull away, still with grins on their faces.

“We kind of did things in the wrong order,” Louis chuckles, “But I really don’t regret it at all.”

“Me neither, _boyfriend_.” Harry smiles.

Louis giggles, “You’re so lucky I’m not lactose intolerant, because you’re all cheese, babe.”

Overall, it’s an amazing date, if Harry says so himself.

\------

After the success of their ice skating date, Louis mentions to Harry about how he should consider going back to practice and maybe even get back on the game, if he can. He’s surprised that Louis is the one to mention it first, even though Harry’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about it. Having the support of his boyfriend gives him the assurance he needs to check with his doctor if he’s ready to go play, since ice skating in a park is different than with a group of ruthless men who have no qualms with getting each other hurt. 

Harry’s made a lot of progress, though, and after a few check ups at the hospital, Harry's good to go. He’s walking without a hitch, and though his knee still has some bad days, it’s something that’ll go away with time if Harry keeps up his exercises, and now with the opportunity to play again standing right in front of him, Harry hasn’t slacked up one bit. 

The next thing he does is call his coach to let him know the good news, and before he knows it, Harry’s back at the rink for a practice round.

“Harry, if you need a break, let us know, alright?” His coach warns him. Harry nods. With this change in his life, he’s adapted to new limits that came with it, and the minute his knee starts to give out, he knows better than to keep pushing himself, even if wanted to keep going. 

It feels great to play with his team again, and though he struggles in the beginning since he hasn’t played in a long time, it’s like riding a bicycle in the sense that, the more he skates, the better he gains back his rhythm. By the end of practice, Harry feels a lot better about himself.

“So, how about it, Styles?” Coach Tudor asks him at the end of practice, “You reckon you could join us for the next game?”

Harry wants to, really bad, but the truth is, he’s still freshly recovered and he could do with a few more weeks of practice. The season is still running, with the team still having a few more games ahead of them, including the finale. Harry would much rather miss out on the next few games only to play the rest fully recovered and ready to win.

It’s an understandable decision that no one has any qualms with. 

So, for the new few weeks ahead of him, Harry’s been down at the rink almost as often as he used to, except this time, he doesn’t stay there for any longer than he needs to. He’s a changed man, yet still just as determined as before. 

“I can’t believe it took you an injury to get you to stop overworking yourself,” Louis mentions to him as they head out of the rink, the same time most of his teammates do.

It’s weird, Harry can admit that much, but he feels like he isn’t missing out too much anyways. He’s done for the day, and now he gets to go home and cuddle with Louis as much as he wants. It feels like a happy compromise. 

Harry’s also delighted to find out that during a recent game, Logan got himself suspended after starting a fight on ice and breaking the other team members' nose. Harry thinks he had it coming, and his leave couldn’t have come in a more convenient time. 

He’s ready to get back on ice, and he’s not coming to fuck around. 

\----

There’s something really daunting about being back on the game. In a way, it feels like the first time Harry’s ever playing professionally, and though it’s been years since the first time he got signed, or even put a foot in an actual stadium ice, all those feelings and memories come back to him as he stands with his team, waiting to be called into the rink. 

He’s anxious as he waits, and he’s been like this all week. He doesn’t know how Louis, or anyone really, managed to handle his stress levels at an all time high, but he’s still happily together with Louis and his friends all stuck around. It feels like an accomplishment. 

Speaking of, his great support system were all here to watch his first game post-recovery. His mum and sister are back on the bleachers along with Niall, Richard and Louis. Since Harry’s accident, the pair’s relationship has been mended and there’s been no more threats to kick Louis to the curb since then. 

Louis’ also here with his family. 

Over these past few weeks since him and Louis made it official, Louis has finally introduced Harry to his mum and sister. Due to their distance, them back in Doncaster, it had to be over skype, but Harry still dressed to the nines - which for him meant putting on a blazer while still being in his boxer briefs since they wouldn’t be able to see his lower half anyways - and was a lot more nervous than he anticipated as they answered the call. In the end, everyone got on well and Harry could really tell how much this family loved and supported each other.

Louis’ sister, Libby, was just as sweet as Louis had mentioned. She was kind and extremely funny and Harry found himself relating a lot to her. Though she still had a long road of recovery in front of her, she remained optimistic for her future and Harry was more than happy to cover many of the unpaid bills, and offered to help with any upcoming ones. Her confidence was radiant and Harry was sure keep his head up like her. 

Harry ended up surprising Louis by bringing his family over, and he couldn’t even express how happy he was to see them. A lot of happy tears were shed, and Harry’s so grateful his family has been nothing but accepting of him, and actually wanted to come see his first game post-recovery. It meant a lot to him to feel like he belonged in this family already and he couldn’t wait to spend a lot more time with them. Harry was also really happy with how his own family was quickly becoming close with them and it’s like everything was coming into place.

Suddenly, the intercom booms up, announcing their names and officially marking the start of the game. With his heart pumping against his chest, Harry puts his helmet on properly and quickly huddles with his team as they get inside. 

It’s now or never. He’s taking his team to victory, and with his body back in shape, a great support system, and a beautiful lover, Harry already feels like a winner. 

They get on ice as the commentators call them in, and the crowd loudly cheers as the Hawks skate inside, taking a lap before getting into their positions and wait until the referee starts the game. 

It’s all a blur as the game starts. Be it the rooting from the audience, or how quickly the teams set to play, Harry almost finds himself getting lost in all the movement, but he’s quick to regain his focus and skates ahead to catch the puck. 

Harry manages to take lead on the puck, and he feels like he’s got all eyes on him. He’s not the first one to end up with a serious injury, nor is he the first one to return after recovering, but he definitely feels like it as he watches over his shoulder to make a pass to Lucien. 

It almost makes him feel small, in a way, but as the game continues, Harry realizes he can’t let these thoughts get the best of him and potentially ruin the game for him. He’s Harry fucking Styles and he’s not about to self sabotage himself. 

He’s one of the best players out of the entire league, and nothing will stop him from showing why he’s on the top ranks. 

With a newfound fire in his soul, Harry glides across the ice and already, by the time the first halftime is over, the Hawks are already taking the lead, with two goals to null, and Harry plans on keeping it this way. 

As the short break is over and both teams are required back on ice, Harry’s considerably less anxious than in the first period. He’s driven and in a mindset that won’t allow him to stop for nothing, and his body has been able to keep up without a fight. 

The next halftime goes as expected, the Hawks keeping their lead is basically a given, despite the Cowboys being a generally great team. Harry knew they'd made some last minute swaps, and right now those might’ve not been the best idea, but it benefits the Hawks, so from a strategic point of view, it couldn't have been a better move for his team. 

It’s in the last segment of the game that things take a turn. 

A lot can change in a matter of seconds, and Harry’s no stranger to that. The Cowboys return almost as if they’d been on steroids for this part. They show no mercy as the game begins again, amping it up and proving themselves to be a challenge for this part.

They manage to score another goal and also check Liam and Archer on two different occasions, but luckily it’s nothing that ends up in serious damage and both Hawks quickly recover. 

It’s the final five minutes until the whole game is over and it’s crucial for the Hawks to get the final goals in. It’s difficult, since there’s two Cowboys for every Hawk, so it seems, in every direction and stealing the puck with every chance they get.

But Harry won’t take that sort of bullshit any day.

With only minutes to spare, Harry spots Sergei from the Cowboys planning to make a pass, and before he could even raise his stick, Harry swoops right in and steals it from him, skating behind his team's goal and passing it to Felix when two Cowboys circle around him. 

Felix holds onto the puck, but it doesn’t take long for him to start to be crammed between his opponents, and as Lucien goes to save the puck, two others stop him before he can. 

Harry grunts to himself and revels in the cheers as he speeds down the ice, bracing his stick and dodging the Cowboys heading his way. He manages to catch the puck and with only seconds down the clock, Harry makes his final shoot and-

Cheers erupt across the stadium as the game eventually finishes and upon glancing at the scoreboard, Harry’s goal made it in time, securing their win and their place at the NHL Stanley Cup playoffs.

Harry raises his stick in victory, finally soaking in how the crowd cheers for them and it’s only a second before his teammates skate to him, piling up on him with tight hugs and cheers. They’re all buzzing with excitement as they take their win, and above it all, Harry’s so proud of himself for achieving this when all hope was lost. 

After a victory lap, the Hawks step out of the rink and as they head to the locker rooms, Harry glances over to the bleachers where he knows his main support group is at, and his heart soars as he sees his family cry out tears of joy. 

He just wanted to make them proud, and that’s exactly what he did, and he couldn’t be more elated. 

The locker room is at an all time high and everyone’s buzzing for the chance at the last, final playoffs. It’s a relief they made it this far and they’re not gonna stop now. 

As Harry leaves the locker room, he barely takes two steps out before he feels a tiny body run up and jump on him, before wrapping their legs around his waist and keeping a firm grip around his shoulders. Harry immediately hugs Louis back, kissing him and laughing when Louis pulls back to drop little pecks all over his face. 

“I'm so proud of you, Harry.” Louis says in between kisses.

“Thanks, baby.” Harry smiles, “I’m so-”

Harry’s blood pumps through his veins with excitement, and with Louis showering him with sweet affections, he gets overwhelmed with the need to express how thankful he was for Louis, and everything he’s done for him.

“Louis,” He says.

“What?” Louis frowns, pulling back with a pout, “Are you-”

“I need to-” Harry feels so wrapped up in the moment, he can’t help but think about those three little words that hang through his mind every time he thinks about Louis.

“I love you.” He says, and this confession feels like a whole weight has been lifted off his shoulders. 

Louis eyes widen and he looks so shocked that Harry worries he might’ve spoken too soon, but before he can get the chance to fret, a huge grin makes its way onto Louis’ face and he smacks a huge kiss on Harry's lips, almost making them fall over.

“I love you too, Harry,” Louis cries, “So, so much.” 

This day couldn’t be any better. 

He’s holding Louis so tight, hugging him close to his chest and kissing him despite being in the middle of a huge crowd, and he’s so warped into this little moment he created with Louis, he barely even notices as his teammates begin to leave the locker room.

“Just an assistant, eh, Styles?” Yanis chuckles behind him. 

Harry'd throw him the finger if he wasn't too busy holding up his boyfriend, whom he's incredibly in love with. Rolling his eyes with a grin on his face, Harry turns back to Louis and smacking a deep kiss right on his lips.

Louis’ giggling as he pulls away, as he runs his fingers through Harry’s messy mullet, he leans in to whisper in his ear.

“Now, go win that Stanley Cup for me.”

And that’s all Harry needs to hear. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this! Don't forget to leave kudos and a nice comment if you've enjoyed this! Find me on tumblr and twitter on @/youreyesonlarry for more updates on new fics, drawings and bl content! :)


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